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AN   INTERPRETATION  OF 
THE  TWENTY-THIRD  PSALM 


BY 

J.  D.  FREEMAN 


Of  PRii 

FEB  22  xh 


NEW  YORK 
A.  C.  ARMSTRONG  &  SON 

3  and  5  We«t  Eliehteenth  Street 
Neai  Fifth  Avenue 

1907 


Copyright,  1907,  by 
A.  C.  ARMSTRONG  &  SON 


Published,  February,  1907 


Co  m^  piot^n 


'  If  Thou  vvould'st  have    me  speak,  Lord   give 

me  speech! 
So  many  cries  are  uttered  nowadays, 
That  scarce  a  song,  however  clear  or  true, 
Can  thread  the  jostling  tumult  safe  and  reach 
The  ears  of  men,  buzz-filled  with  poor  denays: 
Barb  Thou  my  words  with  light!     Make  my 

song  new! 
And  men  will  hear,  whether  I  sing  or  preach." 
— George  MacDonald. 


Contents 

I.  A  Life  in  a  Love ii 

II.  A  Morning  Meal  on  the  Meadows  25 

III.  A  Midday  Drink  from  the  Well  .      .  35 

IV.  A  Noontide  Rest  in  the  Shade  .      .  49 
V.  An  Afternoon  Climb  on  the  Paths  63 

VI.  Adventures  in  the  Shadowed  Glen  79 

VII.  Supper  on  the  Darkening  Wold  .      .  91 

VIII.  Twilight  at  the  Sheepfold  Door       .  loi 

IX.  Night  Within  the  Gates  .      .      .      .113 

X.  Foregleams  of  the  Heavenly  Dawn  131 


"All's  love,  yet  all's  law." 

— Browning. 


Life  on  ti^e  aplanDjs 


CHAPTER  I 

A    LIFE  IN   A    LOVE 

"The  Lord  is  my  shepherd;  I  shall  not 
want." 

Had  David  done  nothing  more  in 
his  Ufetime  than  teach  mankind  to 
say  "The  Lord  is  my  Shepherd," 
he  would  have  conferred  an  inesti- 
mable boon.  In  this  single  sentence 
he  has  given  to  the  world  a  concep- 
tion of  God  that  floods  the  spiritual 
imagination  with  ruddy  light.  It  is 
a  great  rose  window  set  in  the  tem- 
ple of  truth,  through  which  "the 
white  radiance  of  eternity"  streams 
in  and  falls  with  softened  splendor 
upon  the  minds  of  men. 

The  vital  centre  of  each  man's 
religion  is  his  conviction  regarding 
God's  relation  to  his  individual  life. 
II 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


Does  God  care  for  me?  Am  I  of 
any  consequence  to  Him?  Will  He 
hear  me  if  I  pray  to  Him?  Will  He 
come  to  me  if  I  call  to  Him?  Will 
He  lead  me  if  I  look  to  Him  ?  Will 
He  save  me  if  I  trust  in  Him  ?  Upon 
the  answers  to  these  questions  de- 
pends the  character  of  his  reUgious 
life. 

If  one  must  think  of  God  as  a 
deity  seated  beyond  the  stars,  un- 
conscious of  and  unconcerned  for 
him,  too  much  engrossed  with  the 
multitude  to  single  out  the  man — 
viewing  humanity  as  one  might  view 
a  forest  from  some  far-off  hilltop, 
seeing  only  the  outline  dark  against 
the  horizon,  but  distinguishing  no 
separate  tree,  much  less  the  single 
leaf  that  flutters  on  the  bough — then 
the  foundation  of  religion  slips  from 
beneath  his  soul  and  the  mainspring 
of  devotion  breaks  within  his  heart. 

For  religion  is  worship  and  trust 
and  love  and  obedience.  And  all 
these  are  personal  relations.  They 
can  only  be  exercised  towards  a  God 
with  whom  we  may  commune,  a  God 

12 


A  Life  in  a  Love 


who  places  Himself  in  intimate,  per- 
sonal touch  with  individual  hves. 

There  is,  perhaps,  no  more  serious 
task  set  for  the  religious  faith  of  our 
own  time  than  just  this  one  of  main- 
taining within  the  soul  a  continuous 
and  vivid  sense  of  God's  personal 
presence  and  individuahzing  love. 

The  modern  view  of  the  universe 
has  created  a  new  problem  for  faith. 
While  enhancing  our  appreciation 
of  Jehovah's  majesty  and  power,  it 
tends  to  weaken  our  assurance  of 
His  sympathetic  concern  for  the 
single  lives  of  men.  The  telescope 
has  disclosed  to  our  view  a  universe 
enormously  vaster  than  that  which 
the  ancients  knew.  God  has  more 
worlds  to  care  for  than  they  supposed 
He  had.  "The  wheel  of  nature" 
is  a  bigger  thing  to  turn,  and  a  more 
complicated  machine  to  lubricate, 
than  they  had  thought.  Moreover, 
the  study  of  physical  phenomena  has 
wrought  in  us  a  deeper  conviction  of 
the  uniformity  of  nature's  processes. 
Through  all  her  movements  and 
changes  we  now  behold  the  reign  of 
13 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


one  all-pervading,  all-controlling  sys- 
tem of  law. 

With  mind  intent  upon  these  facts 
it  is  easy  to  drop  from  the  soul  the 
sense  of  God's  personal  presence  and 
permit  the  thought  of  His  special 
providence  to  fade  from  our  minds. 
To  many  it  seems  as  if  science  has 
stolen  away  the  Lord  and  they  know 
not  where  it  has  laid  Him.  For  this 
reason — because  of  this  new  burden 
added  to  faith's  task — we  of  to-day 
have  special  need  to  fortify  our  hearts 
with  the  strong  assurances  of  spiritually 
visioned  men  like  David,  to  whom 
the  presence  and  companionship  of 
God  was  the  most  vivid  reality  of  their 
lives.  The  confession  of  faith  which 
such  men  give  to  the  world  is  valid, 
not  merely  for  their  own  times,  but 
for  all  times.  They  were  specialists 
in  the  things  of  the  spirit,  experts  in 
"the  practice  of  the  presence  of  God," 
and  the  findings  of  their  experience 
have  permanent  significance  for  man- 
kind. They  build  a  trelHs  upon  which 
the  faith  of  succeeding  generations 
may  cUmb  and  lean  and  ripen.  For, 
14 


A  Life  in  a  Love 


after  all,  we  live  in  the  same  uni- 
verse as  David  did.  It  was  as  spa- 
cious then  as  now.  Law  was  as  rigid 
then  as  now.  It  is  but  our  thought 
of  these  which  has  changed.  The 
modern  view  of  the  world  has  created 
no  fresh  problems  for  Jehovah.  His 
tasks  are  no  greater  than  of  old. 
His  throne  is  no  more  distant.  If  He 
was  with  men  in  the  former  days, 
He  is  with  us  now. 

It  is  in  the  strengthening  of  this 
assurance  that  "The  Shepherd  Psalm" 
renders  its  chiefest  service  to  modern 
life.  Among  all  the  declarations  of 
human  confidence  in  the  personaliz- 
ing care  of  God,  there  is  not  another 
which  can  rival  this  in  strength,  sim- 
plicity, warmth  and  beauty.  It  is  so 
buoyant,  so  glad,  so  assured,  so  calm 
in  its  conviction  of  God's  watchful, 
loving  care,  that  it  answers  the  most 
anxious  questionings  of  the  human 
heart.  As  we  read  it,  the  burdening 
thoughts  of  far-flung  space  and  circling 
worlds  and  unbending  laws  roll  from 
our  souls  and  God  seems  near  to  our 
little   lives   in   attentive   interest   and 

15 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


sympathetic  concern.  At  its  magic 
touch  the  universe  seems  to  contract 
to  a  sanctuary  where  God  and  the  soul 
meet  each  other  in  an  intimacy  and  a 
privacy  that  shut  all  else  outside.  The 
psalm  does  not  argue  about  God's 
personality  or  His  nearness  or  His 
care,  it  simply  sings  out  the  glad- 
ness of  one  hfe  that  God  had  shep- 
herded. "Like  some  sweet,  beguil- 
ing melody,"  it  steals  into  the  reader's 
heart  and  wraps  about  it  the  sense 
of  a  Divine  presence  and  encompass- 
ment. 

The  psalm  is  clearly  reminiscent 
of  David's  own  life  on  the  uplands 
when,  as  a  young  man,  he  was  busied 
with  the  care  of  sheep. 

Its  imagery  is  redolent  of  steam- 
ing meadows,  radiant  with  the  light 
of  remembered  morns  and  noons,  and 
tremulous  with  the  excitement  of  un- 
forgotten  perils  and  adventures. 

In  the  ripened  spiritual  thought  of 
David,  that  early  shepherd  life  of  his 
has  come  to  be  viewed  as  sacramental. 
The  long  years  which  have  passed 
since  then  have  steeped  the  memories 
i6 


A  Life  in  a  Love 


of  that  life  to  such  limpid  clearness 
in  his  soul  that  they  now  spread  before 
his  mind  a  mirror  in  which  he  beholds 
reflected  the  mercy  and  the  wonder  of 
God's  providential  care  for  men. 

Shepherd  life,  as  David  knew  it, 
was  a  life  essentially  emotional  and 
devotional.  Shepherdhood,  as  David 
exercised  it,  was  a  relation  at  once 
so  affectionately  solicitous  and  so  in- 
geniously resourceful  as  to  be  akin 
to  motherhood. 

For  the  sheep  of  Eastern  lands  live 
in  their  shepherd.  He  is  the  centre 
of  their  unity,  the  guarantee  of  their 
security,  the  pledge  of  their  prosperity. 
For  them,  pastures  and'  wells  and 
paths  and  folds  are  all  in  him.  Apart 
from  him  their  condition  is  one  of 
abject  and  pathetic  helplessness. 
Should  any  sudden  calamity  tear  him 
from  them  they  arc  forthwith  undone. 
Distressed  and  scattered,  they  stumble 
among  the  rocks,  or  bleed  in  the  thorn- 
tangle,  or  flee,  wild  with  fear,  before 
the  terror  of  the  wolf.  Hence  a  good 
shepherd  never  forsakes  his  sheep. 
He  accompanies  them  by  day  and 
2  17 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


abides  with  them  by  night.  In  the 
morning  he  goes  before  them  to  lead 
them  out,  and  in  the  evening,  when 
he  has  gathered  them  into  the  fold, 
he  lies  down  in  their  midst.  Then  as 
he  views  their  still,  white  forms  clus- 
tered about  him  in  the  darkness,  his 
heart  brims  with  a  brooding  tender- 
ness. 

This  shepherd  life  is  one  of  such 
continuous  and  loving  devotement 
that  it  readily  lends  itself  to  religious 
impression.  May  we  not  trace  some- 
thing of  that  large  capacity  for  spirit- 
ual insight  and  feeling,  something 
of  that  tender  mysticism  so  charac- 
teristic of  the  best  Scottish  minds,  to 
the  fact  that  they  have  sprung  from 
generations  of  contemplative  shep- 
herds accustomed  to  commune  with 
the  Most  High  amid  the  solitudes, 
and  to  carry  with  them  the  sense  of  a 
divine  presence  as  they  led  their  flocks 
from  day  to  day  upon  the  silent  hills  ? 

Certain  it   is   that   the   springs   of 

David's  spiritual  nature  owed  much 

of  their  life-long  force  and  freshness 

to  their  infilling  with  the  rehgious  ideas 

i8 


A  Life  in  a  Love 


that  flowed  in  upon  them  during  those 
brimming  days  of  silence  when  he 
plied  a  shepherd's  crook  amid  the 
lonely  Judean  hills. 

It  was  then  he  came  to  realize  that 
though  he  was  a  helpless  creature, 
abroad  in  the  great  world-wilderness, 
he  was  neither  forsaken  nor  forgotten. 
He,  too,  belonged  to  a  tended  and 
guarded  flock.  Jehovah  was  his  shep- 
herd. His  own  life,  like  that  of  his  de- 
pendent sheep  was  "a  life  in  a  love." 

Through  many  a  troubled  day  of 
his  checkered  career  David  must  have 
carried  that  precious  thought  within 
his  heart.  In  his  poetic  nature  it  was 
the  seed  of  a  song.  And  it  must  often 
have  come  to  the  verge  of  its  unfolding. 
He  must  often  have  felt  within  him 
"the  fire  of  the  coming  flower."  Again 
and  again  it  must  have  trembled  on  the 
verge  of  its  apocalypse.  One  day, 
we  know  not  when,  but  it  was  a  blessed 
day  for  the  world,  a  special  inspira- 
tion smote  him  and  the  seed  burst  into 
blossom.  On  that  day  he  gave  the 
world  this  perfect  lyric  of  religious 
trust,  a  lyric  which  has  sung  itself  into 
19 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


the  hearts  of  a  thousand  generations 
and  will  sing  on  until  its  music  melts 
away  and  blends  with  the  harmonies 
of  heaven. 


20 


TIME-NOTES 

A  remarkable  feature  of  this  psalm,  but 
one  which  seems  to  have  been  almost  entirely 
overlooked  hitherto,  is  the  Time-Notes  which 
are  scattered  through  it.  A  careful  study  of 
its  structure  has  convinced  me  that  these  notes 
occur  at  regular  intervals  throughout  the  psalm, 
that  they  correspond  to  the  successive  periods 
of  the  shepherd's  day,  and  that  they  reflect  the 
whole  round  of  the  shepherd's  work  from  the 
morning  to  the  evening  hours. 

Studied  from  this  standpoint  the  psalm, 
beginning  with  the  second  verse,  presents  a 
series  of  dissolving  views  which  shade  into 
one  another  with  striking  effect.  By  following 
these  Time-Notes  it  not  only  becomes  apparent 
that  the  figure  of  shepherdhood  is  carried 
through  the  composition  consistently  to  the 
end,  but  the  reader  comes  to  appreciate  the 
progress  of  its  doctrine  and  the  growing  force 
and  beauty  of  the  teaching  up  to  the  last  tri- 
umphant word. 


21 


"O  Child!  O  new-born  denizen 
Of  life's  great  city!  On  thy  head 
The  glory  of  the  morn  is  shed 
Like  a  celestial  benison! 
Here  at  the  portal  thou  dost  stand, 
And  with  thy  little  hand 
Thou  openest  the  mysterious  gate 
Into  the  future's  undiscovered  land." 
— Longfellow. 


23 


CHAPTER  II 

A   MORNING  MEAL  ON   THE 
MEADOWS 

'He  maketh  me   to  lie  down  in  green  past- 


ures. 


The  shepherd  is  early  astir.  He 
has  his  flock  forth  from  the  fold  and 
well  out  upon  the  feeding  ground, 
while  yet 

"Morning's  at  seven, 
The  hill-side's  dew-pearl'd." 

This  is  the  ideal  feeding  time.  The 
flock  is  fresh,  its  hunger  is  keen,  and 
the  pasture  is  moist  and  sweet.  A 
good  shepherd  always  provides  a  full 
feed  early  in  the  day.  It  is  in  conse- 
quence of  their  hearty  feeding  that  the 
sheep  "lie  down."  Not  in  weariness, 
but  in  contentment,  do  they  stretch 
themselves  upon  the  green.  The  pict- 
ure here  is  not  one  of  exhaustion,  but 
of  satisfaction.  The  recumbence  of 
the  flock  proclaims  the  abundance  of 
the  pasture.  Tired  sheep  would  be 
25 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


better  in  a  fold  than  in  a  field.  They 
would  rather  sleep  than  eat.  To 
them  a  bank  of  moss  in  the  cool  shadow 
of  a  rock  would  be  more  welcome  than 
any  pastures,  however  green.  Clearly, 
it  is  the  fulness  of  the  flock  that  is 
suggested  here.  Cropping  the  sweet 
grasses,  they  quickly  feed  to  satisfac- 
tion and  he  down  content. 

The  psalm  at  this  point  reflects  the 
comfort  and  peace  of  those  happy 
souls  who,  in  early  Hfe,  have  tasted 
and  seen  that  God  is  good.  Satisfied 
in  the  morning  with  His  mercy,  they 
rejoice  and  are  glad  all  their  days.  To 
make  an  ideal  beginning  of  our  life  we 
must  go  with  the  Good  Shepherd  early 
and  spend  the  dewy  morn  with  Him 
upon  the  meadows  of  His  grace.  For 
then  the  spiritual  appetite  is  keen  and 
the  heart  feeds  hungrily  on  the  fat 
pastures  of  God's  love  until  it  is  nour- 
ished into  a  deep  content.  There  are 
no  lives  which  dwell  in  such  a  pro- 
fundity of  peace  or  hold  within  them 
such  reserve  and  resource  of  spiritual 
power  as  those  who  can  say,  "Thou 
hast  been  my  God  from  my  youth." 
26 


A  Morning  Meal  on  the  Meadows 

And  this  is  the  secret  of  life-long 
security.  The  soul  that  is  satisfied  in 
God  is  safe.  Full-fed  sheep  abide  on 
the  feeding  ground,  close  to  the  shep- 
herd's care.  If  any  stray  from  him 
and  lose  themselves  in  the  wilderness, 
it  is  because  of  the  discontentment  of 
unsatisfied  hunger.  The  stragglers 
are  the  nibblers,  not  the  hearty  feed- 
ers. They  who  abound  in  Christ 
abide  in  Him.  An  early  filling  en- 
sures a  faithful  following.  To  stand 
against  the  fascinations  of  the  world 
we  must  rest  in  the  satisfactions  of 
God. 

The  world  is  full  of  lean  and  fam- 
ished spirits,  men  and  women  whose 
souls  are  fainting  in  them,  who  might 
now  be  vital  and  virile,  with  vigor  for 
righteousness  and  reserve  power  for 
trial,  had  they  but  responded  to  the 
Shepherd's  call  early  in  the  morning. 

It  is  pathetic  to  witness  the  multi- 
tude of  troubled  lives  that  have  slipped 
away  from  the  Good  Shepherd's  care 
to  be  driven  by  the  wolves  of  passion, 
to  be  torn  by  the  thorns  of  remorse,  to 
tramp  the  pathless  sands  of  doubt  and 
27 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


to  drink  from  the  dead,  salt  sea  of  un- 
belief, through  the  misfortune  of  hav- 
ing missed  the  satisfaction  of  the  morn- 
ing meal  upon  the  meadows. 

No  after-feeding  can  ever  quite 
compensate,  in  this  life,  for  a  spirit- 
ually impoverished  youth.  The  finer 
nerves  of  the  spirit  atrophy  if  deprived 
of  their  appropriate  nourishment  dur- 
ing these  halcyon  days.  Youth  is  par 
excellence  "the  growing  time"  of  the 
religious  nature.  It  needs  to  be  richly 
fed.  All  who  have  the  care  of  grow- 
ing children  know  the  enormous  de- 
mands for  food  made  by  the  physical 
constitution  until  full  stature  is  at- 
tained. It  is  a  cruelty  and  a  crime  to 
arrest  development  by  stinting  the 
nourishment  at  this  critical  stage  of 
life. 

The  same  principle  holds  true  with 
reference  to  intellectual  development. 
We  have  witnessed  a  distinct  renais- 
sance of  interest  upon  tliis  point  of  late 
in  the  pedagogical  world.  It  is  as- 
serted now  that  one-half  of  all  the 
knowledge  which  the  mind  acquires 
in  this  world  comes  into  its  possession 
28 


A  Morning  Meal  on  the  Meadows 

by  the  seventh  year.  One  is  inclined 
at  first  to  dispute  the  accuracy  of  the 
statement,  but  upon  reflection  it  seems 
justified.  Let  any  one  write  down  a 
list  of  the  facts  concerning  which  the 
child  gains  knowledge  within  that 
period,  facts  concerning  liis  own  being 
and  the  universe  about  him  and  the 
God  above  him,  and  he  will  be  amazed 
at  the  magnitude  of  the  sum  total. 

And  certainly  the  principle  applies 
in  the  spiritual  realm.  Indeed,  it  has 
special  application  here.  For,  as  a 
rule,  the  spiritual  faculty  in  childhood 
outruns  all  other  faculties  in  its  de- 
velopment. The  capacity  for  God  is 
now  at  its  zenith.  In  recepti\'ity,  in 
delicacy  and  sureness  of  intuition,  in 
the  experience  of  wonder,  the  child  is 
peculiarly  ready  for  the  kingdom  of 
God.  The  church  will  need  to  learn 
a  little  psychology  before  she  will  be 
ready  to  do  her  whole  duty  by  child 
life.  She  must  be  made  aware  that 
childhood  has  its  pensive,  meditative 
moments.  The  child  is  a  mystic. 
Every  child  is  essentially  religious. 
His  spirit  feels  the  wonder  of  the  world 
29 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


and  is  drenched  with  the  sense  of  mys- 
tery. He  is  full  of  questionings  that 
are  big  with  spiritual  significance. 

The  strongest  guarantee  we  have  of 
the  perpetuity  of  religion  in  the  world 
is  the  birth  of  children,  the  perpetual 
renewal  in  humanity  of  the  child  nat- 
ure. "Blessed  be  childhood,"  wrote 
Amiel,  "which  brings  down  some- 
thing of  heaven  into  our  rough  earth- 
liness.  These  eighty  thousand  daily 
births,  of  which  statistics  tell  us,  rep- 
resent, as  it  were,  an  effusion  of  inno- 
cence and  freshness,  struggling  not 
only  against  the  death  of  the  race,  but 
against  human  corruption,  and  the  uni- 
versal gangrene  of  sin.  All  the  good 
and  wholesome  feeling  which  is  inter- 
twined vdth  childhood  and  the  cradle 
is  one  of  the  secrets  of  the  providential 
government  of  the  world.  Suppress 
this  life-giving  dew,  and  human  soci- 
ety would  be  scorched  and  devastated 
by  selfish  passion.  Supposing  that 
humanity  had  been  composed  of  a 
thousand  milUons  of  immortal  beings, 
whose  number  could  neither  increase 
nor  diminish,  where  should  we  be,  and 
30 


A  Morning  Meal  on  the  Meadows 

what  should  we  be?  A  thousand 
times  more  learned,  no  doubt,  but  a 
thousand  times  more  evil." 

Coincident  with  this  essential  re- 
ligiousness of  childhood  should  be 
noted  the  affinity  of  child  life  for  the 
Christian  faith.  Nowhere  does  the 
foot  of  childhood  move  with  such  free 
and  familiar  step  as  in  the  pastures  of 
that  Good  Shepherd  who  said,  "Suf- 
fer the  little  children  to  come  unto 
me."  One  of  the  most  unanswerable 
arguments  in  favor  of  the  universality 
and  finality  of  the  Christian  faith  is  to 
be  found  in  the  fact  that  it  so  readily 
relates  itself  to  the  spiritual  instincts 
of  youth,  and  so  firmly  approves  itself 
in  the  heart  of  the  little  child. 

In  all  this  there  is  no  thought  of 
forcing  the  religious  development  of 
childhood.  Far  be  it  from  any  of  us 
to  burden  youth  with  an  untimely 
over-seriousness.  Let  it  have  its 
May -day  of  mirthfulness  and  glee! 
Let  it  have  its  songs  and  dreams! 
These  will  perish  soon  enough  in  the 
jostUng  tumult  of  the  world.  It  is  a 
duty  to  make  childhood  care-free  and 

31 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


happy;  to  keep  the  faces  of  the  little 
ones  fresh  and  round  and  smooth. 
But  the  surest  way  to  do  this  very 
thing  is  to  minister  to  the  spiritual 
imagination.  Let  us  remember  that 
other  word  of  Amiel:  "How  enor- 
mously important  are  these  first  con- 
versations of  childhood!  I  felt  it  this 
morning  with  a  sort  of  religious  terror. 
Innocence  and  childhood  are  sacred. 
The  father  or  mother  casting  in  the 
fruitful  word  are  accomplishing  a 
pontifical  act,  and  ought  to  perform 
it  with  rehgious  awe,  with  prayer  and 
gravity,  for  they  are  laboring  at  the 
kingdom  of  God." 

May  it  be  given  to  each  of  us  to  in- 
terpret the  wistfulness  of  the  children 
as  their  heart-cry  for  the  Christ,  and 
to  read  in  it  their  voiceless  prayer  to 
the  Good  Shepherd: 

"O  satisfy  us  in  the  morning  with  Thy  mercy; 
That  we  may  rejoice  and  be  glad  all  our  days." 


32 


"  In  the  poorest  cottage  is  one  Book,  wherein 
for  several  thousands  of  years  the  spirit  of 
man  has  found  light  and  nourishment,  and 
an  interpreting  response  to  whatever  is  Deep- 
est in  him." — Carlyle. 


33 


CHAPTER   III 

A    MIDDAY  DRINK   FROM    THE 
WELL 

"He  leadeth  me  beside  the  still  waters." 

It  is  the  noontide  hour.  "Sun- 
beams like  swords"  are  smiting  the 
sheep.  They  pant  with  heat  and 
burn  with  thirst.  It  is  time  for  the 
shepherd  to  lead  them  to  the  drink- 
ing-place  and  cool  them  at  the  waters. 
He  knows  the  way.  All  over  these 
Judean  hills,  at  frequent  intervals, 
there  are  deep,  walled  wells,  whose 
waters  never  fail.  A  good  shepherd 
carries  in  his  mind  a  chart  of  every 
well  in  all  his  grazing  area.  These 
wells  are  his  chief  dependence.  Were 
it  not  for  them  the  country  would  be 
impossible  for  grazing  purposes.  For 
though  there  are  many  streams  the 
sheep  cannot  safely  drink  from  them. 
Far  different,  remember,  are  these 
rough  hill-torrents  of  the  Bible  lands 
from  the  gentle  brooks  that  flow  so 
softly  between  their  banks  of  green 

35 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


through  our  meadows  of  the  West.  In 
these  watercourses  of  the  East  the 
flow  is  inconstant.  There  is  either  a 
drought,  when  the  naked  stones  glow 
hot  and  white  in  the  brook's  dry  bed, 
or  a  foaming  freshet  with  wild  waters 
leaping  tumultuously  down  the  steep 
incline.  Often,  too,  the  banks  are 
treacherous  and  crumble  suddenly  be- 
neath the  weight  of  an  unwary  foot. 

No  shepherd  attempts  to  water  his 
flock  at  such  a  stream  lest  the  sheep 
break  through  and  be  swept  away 
and  drowned.  The  sheep  themselves 
dread  these  rough  waters  and  tremble 
with  excitement  at  a  near  approach. 
They  are  waters  of  disquietude  rather 
than  waters  of  rest.  Mindful  of  their 
awkwardness  and  timidity,  the  shep- 
herd, therefore,  selects  for  his  flock  a 
safe  drinking-place.  He  leads  them 
beside  the  still  waters  gathered  in  the 
deep,  cool  cylinder  of  some  neighboring 
well.  Here  the  sheep  dispose  them- 
selves; the  eager  crowding  of  their 
fleecy  bodies  foaming  about  the  shep- 
herd in  a  white,  undulating  circle  of 
appealing  expectancy.  At  the  well- 
36 


A  Midday  Drink  from  the  Well 

mouth,  with  bared  arms,  the  shepherd 
stands  and  plunges  the  bucket  far 
down  into  the  darkness,  sinking  it 
beneath  the  waters  and  shattering  the 
stillness  which  till  now  has  brood- 
ed there.  He  plunges  and  draws. 
Swiftly  the  rope  coils  at  his  feet 
as  the  laden  bucket  rises  respon- 
sive to  the  rhythmic  movements  of  his 
sinewy  arms.  Into  the  trough  he 
pours  the  sparkling  contents.  Again 
the  bucket  shoots  into  the  darkness 
of  the  well;  again,  and  yet  again,  and 
when  the  trough  is  filled  he  calls  the 
thirsty  sheep  to  come  in  groups  and 
drink.  The  lambs  first,  afterwards 
the  older  members  of  the  flock,  till  all 
are  served  and  satisfied. 

There  are  few  lovelier  sights  than 
this  to  be  seen  in  any  land.  How 
eagerly  they  drink!  How  grateful 
the  cold  waters  to  their  hot,  dry  throats! 
What  speedy  relief  they  bring!  What 
a  sweet  sense  of  refreshment  they 
impart!  For  though  these  waters 
are  ''still,"  they  are  not  stagnant. 
The  well  is  spring-fed.  Down  there 
in  those  dim  depths  a  fountain  pul- 
37 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


sates,  ceaselessly  pouring  its  contents 
into  the  well  in  crystal  jets.  The 
spring  is  the  heart  of  the  well,  and 
hence  it  is  "living  water"  that  the 
shepherd  gives. 

The  message  here  is  to  our  soul- 
thirst.  And  verily,  the  human  soul 
is  a  thirsty  thing.  It  thirsts  for  knowl- 
ledge.  To  satisfy  this  thirst  man 
ransacks  the  universe.  He  bores  into 
the  bowels  of  the  earth;  he  dives  into 
the  depths  of  the  sea;  he  builds  ob- 
servatories on  mountain  tops;  he 
lingers  in  the  laboratory  with  scalpel, 
microscope  and  retort;  he  immures 
himself  in  musty  libraries;  his  thirst 
for  knowledge  lures  him  onward  in 
an  endless  quest. 

And  there  is  the  thirst  for  right- 
eousness. It  is  an  intermittent  thirst, 
but  when  it  springs  up  in  the  soul 
it  parches  like  a  flame.  David  knew 
the  agony  of  this  thirst  when  he  cried, 
"Wash  me  throughly  from  mine  in- 
iquity and  cleanse  me  from  my  sin. 
Purge  me  with  hyssop  and  I  shall  be 
clean.  Wash  me  and  I  shall  be  whiter 
than  snow.  Create  in  me  a  clean 
38 


A  Midday  Drink  from  the  Well 

heart,  O  God,  and  renew  a  right  spirit 
within  me."  As  shipwrecked  sailors 
cry  to  heaven  for  rain,  so  cried  he  to 
God  for  righteousness. 

But  deeper  than  all,  more  universal 
and  more  constant,  is  the  thirst  for 
love.  It  never  dies;  not  even  in  the 
lowest  and  the  worst.  It  is  elemental, 
ineradicable.  Sin  cannot  pluck  it  out. 
The  fires  of  hell  cannot  burn  it  out. 
"All  the  world  loves  a  lover."  He  is 
the  centrepiece  in  every  popular  novel, 
and  in  every  successful  play.  The 
crowd  clamors  for  his  entrance,  and 
will  not  be  satisfied  until  he  appears. 
In  love's  absence  "The  palace  of  art" 
becomes  a  prison,  and  the  soul  "a 
spot  of  dull  stagnation": 

"  A  still  salt  pool,  lock'd  in  with  bars  of  sand, 
Left  on  the  shore;    that  hears  all  night 
The  plunging  seas  draw  backward  from  the 
land 
Their  moon-led  waters  white." 

And  all  these  thirsts  Christ  satisfies. 
The  thirst   for   knowledge  He   satis- 
fies by  His  revelation  of  God.     That 
is  wisdom's  sum.     Until  we  come  to 
39 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


Him  we  are  searchers  after  truth;  we 
find  Him  and  henceforth  are  searchers 
into  truth.  In  Him  "are  all  the  riches 
of  wisdom  and  knowledge  hid." 

The  thirst  for  righteousness  He 
satisfies  by  the  reconciling  grace  of 
His  sacrifice  and  the  cleansing  power 
of  His  spirit.  To  the  thirsty  con- 
science the  atonement  of  Christ  is  like 
floods  of  water  poured  on  sun-baked 
earth. 

"Peace,   perfect  peace,  in  this  dark  world  of 
sin? 
The  blood  of  Jesus  whispers  peace  within." 

The  thirst  for  love  He  answers  with 
the  gift  of  "Love  divine,  all  love  ex- 
celling." In  that  love  is  the  "Joy 
of  heaven  to  earth  come  down." 

"O  Christ  He  is  the  fountain, 
The  deep,  sweet  well  of  love." 

The  joy  of  the  soul  at  the  well,  when 
deep  answers  unto  calHng  deep,  is  past 
the  telling.  Then  the  soul  sings  the 
song:  "Spring  up,  O  well!  sing  ye 
unto  it!"  George  Adam  Smith,  with 
one  of  his  master-touches,  interprets 
40 


A  Midday  Drink  from  the  Well 

for  us  this  song  at  the  well.  "The 
drawers  who  sang  this  song  knew  that 
their  well  was  alive.  They  called  to 
each  other  to  sing  back  to  it.  The 
verb  means  to  sing  in  antiphon,  to 
answer  the  music  of  the  w^aters  with 
their  own.  That  spirt  in  the  dark 
hollow  was  not  the  only  well-spring; 
the  men's  hearts  gushed  back  to  it; 
fountain  called  to  fountain,  Spring  up, 

0  well!     Sing  ye  back  to  it." 

The  waters  of  our  Shepherd's  well 
are  not   only  satisfying  but  curative. 

1  have  not  spoken  of  the  soul's  ignoble 
thirsts — those  raging  passions  that  in- 
flame and  blight  the  life,  the  thirst  for 
wealth,  for  preferment,  for  revenge, 
for  gross  and  sensual  pleasures — but 
they  are  burning  fiercely  everywhere. 
These  Christ  cures.  All  the  foolish 
discontent,  the  morbid  thirst  that  has 
become  disease.  He  extinguishes.  The 
infiooding  of  His  love  and  life  puts 
out  these  baleful  flames  as  the  rising 
tide  of  ocean  puts  out  the  fires  kindled 
on  the  beach. 

But  there  is  more  than  the  contents 
of  the  well  to  attract  us  here.     We  are 
41 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


reminded  by  the  picture  before  us  of 
the  security  and  accessibility  of  its 
waters  for  the  thirsty  sheep  that  stay 
by  the  shepherd's  side.  It  speaks  to 
us  of  God's  tender  thoughtfulness  for 
the  awkward  and  timid  members  of 
His  flock.  He  has  graciously  gathered 
the  water  of  Ufe  for  them  into  a  safe 
receptacle.  He  reserves  it  for  them 
in  the  deep,  cool  well  of  His  word. 
It  is  true,  no  doubt,  that  much  good 
water  foams  between  the  banks  of 
speculative  systems  of  religious  thought, 
but  multitudes  of  simple  souls  lack 
the  skill  and  courage  necessary  to 
reach  it  there.  It  need  not  be  denied 
that  much  pure  water  rushes  down 
the  steep  ways  of  scientific  and  philo- 
sophical learning,  but  it  needs  to  be 
gathered  into  quiet  pools  before  the 
flock  can  drink.  As  they  fret  their 
course  through  much  of  the  Uterature 
of  our  time,  these  streams  are  too  rough 
and  their  banks  too  brittle  to  make 
safe  drinking-places  for  the  humble, 
timid  souls  which  are  God's  chief  care. 
Men  of  tested  faith  and  trained  dia- 
lectical skill  may  keep  their  footing 
42 


A  Midday  Drink  from  the  Well 

in  all  these  torrents,  and  drink  from 
all  these  troubled  waters  in  security. 
But  a  lamb  will  drown  where  a  lion 
may  drink.  And  even  for  those  who 
are  not  swept  away  by  them  these 
waters  are  but  a  second  best.  One 
may  shrewdly  guess  that  it  is  mental 
exercise  they  give  rather  than  spiritual 
refreshment.  There  is  less  comfort 
in  the  drinking  when  one  must  fight 
for  footing  while  he  drinks.  He  will 
scarcely  stay  to  drink  his  fill.  I 
have  noticed  that  even  the  sturdiest 
thoughted  and  clearest  visioned  Chris- 
tians are  glad  to  get  away  from  the 
torrent  to  the  well.  They  find  it 
cooler  there,  and  quieter,  and  more 
refreshing.  They  prefer,  above  all 
current  Hterature,  the  "still  waters" 
poured  out  for  them  in  the  narratives, 
the  songs,  the  gospels  and  epistles  of 
the  Bible.  Equally  with  the  artisan, 
the  merchant,  the  nurse,  the  school- 
teacher, the  tired  mother,  all  the  thirsty 
souls  who  come  in  from  the  heated 
fields  of  a  workaday  world,  they  thirst 
for  a  message  fresh  from  its  fountain 
in  the  living  Word. 

43 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


It  is  a  great  day  in  a  Christian's 
experience  when  he  gets  a  taste  of 
new  deeps  of  truth;  when  the  line  is 
lengthened  for  him  and  the  bucket 
rises  laden  from  some  before  unfath- 
omed  nook  of  Holy  Writ.  To  get  a 
deeper  view  of  God,  of  Christ,  of  the 
Cross,  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  of  Christian 
privilege  and  opportunity,  is  to  get  a 
drink  from  "the  northeast  corner  of 
the  well."  And  to  receive  this  boon 
direct  from  the  hand  of  Christ,  with 
no  water-carrier  near  but  His  blessed 
Spirit,  is  to  experience  a  joy  and  an 
invigoration  that  repays  long  waiting 
at  the  well. 

There  is  no  other  way  to  get  at  the 
heart  of  the  well  but  to  wait  upon 
Christ  and  bid  Him  draw  for  us.  Our 
rope  is  too  short  to  sound  the  depths. 
The  most  critical  analysis  of  Scripture, 
the  most  painstaking  and  accurate 
examination  of  the  hterary  and  histor- 
ical setting,  cannot  sink  our  vessel  for 
us  into  its  nether  springs.  To  that 
fact  the  great  mass  of  scholarly  but 
sapless  and  uninspiring  books  about 
the  Bible,  which  loads  the  shelves  of 
44 


A  Midday  Drink  from  the  Well 

every  studious  pastor,  bears  abundant 
testimony.  There  is  but  one  way  to 
drink  from  the  deeps,  and  that  is  to 
keep  in  close,  personal  touch  with 
Him  who  gives  the  well  its  content, 
and  fills  it  from  His  own  cxhaustless 
spirit.  One  pull  on  the  line  by  the 
hand  that  was  pierced  will  sink  the 
vessel  lower  than  all  the  weights  which 
human  scholarship  can  attach  thereto. 
I  do  not  mean  by  these  words  to  dis- 
parage the  critical  study  of  the  sacred 
writings.  That  has  a  value,  a  high 
value,  in  clearing  the  way  to  the  well- 
head. But  it  cannot  sink  the  bucket 
into  its  spiritual  depths.  I  have 
known  unlettered  men  to  whom  the 
well  gave  up  its  richest  treasures,  be- 
cause of  their  patient,  humble  waiting 
on  the  Shepherd.  Clear  and  cool 
and  sparkling  He  poured  out  the  water 
of  Ufe  for  them,  and  they  drank  and 
were  joyous  and  strong.  And  I  know 
other  men  whose  accumulations  of 
scholarship  seem  to  have  worn  out 
their  spiritual  receptivity,  and  who 
present  to-day  the  sad  spectacle  of 
thirsty  spirits, 

45 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


"  Sinking  leaky  buckets  into  empty  wells, 
And  growing  old  in  drawing  nothing  up." 

To  all  such  thirsty  ones  the  Master 
of  the  well  still  speaks  the  word  of  in- 
vitation: "Ask  of  me  and  I  will  give 
thee  living  water." 


46 


*  Breathe  through  the  heats  of  our  desire 
Thy  coolness  and  Thy  balm." 

—John  G.  Whiitier. 


CHAPTER   IV 

A    NOONTIDE  REST   IN   THE 
SHADE 

"He  restoreth  my  soul." 

It  is  still  too  hot  for  the  flock  to  be 
exposed  upon  the  sun-smit  hills.  The 
noontide  hour  drags  slowly  by.  The 
Lord  of  Day  seems  to  halt  in  the 
heavens  as  he  touches  the  meridian. 
Ere  he  resumes  his  march  he  leans 
from  his  blazing  battlements  and 
shoots  a  quiver  of  fiery  arrows  into 
the  earth.  With  that  fierce  heat  pelt- 
ing down  upon  them  the  sheep  would 
faint  if  led  forth  into  the  open  ways. 
The  shepherd,  therefore,  seeks  a  place 
of  shelter  for  them  where  they  may 
rest  awhile,  withdrawn  from  the  piti- 
less blaze.  Now  he  leads  them  into 
the  shadow  of  a  great  rock  and  bids 
them  lie  down  in  its  welcome  coolness. 
Perhaps  some  old  fold  is  near  and  he 
guides  them  into  its  inviting  shade. 
Or  it  may  be  a  stately,  wide-branched 
4  49 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


tree  that  stands,  with  its  fluttering  fo- 
liage like  a 

"Fountain  of  green  in  summer  air, 
Whose  tremulous  spray  cools  the  faint  meadow, 
And  croons  to  all  of  a  careless  care." 

Within  such  grateful  shades  the  sheep 
abide  until  the  fiercest  heat  of  noon  is 
past.  Thus  their  strength  is  restored 
and  they  rise  rested  and  freshened  for 
the  long  tramp  that  lies  before  them. 

How  readily  this  scene  translates 
itself  into  terms  of  religious  experi- 
ence for  those  who  have  known  the 
Good  Shepherd's  care!  Full  well  He 
knows  the  fiery  heats  which  we  en- 
counter during  the  days  of  our  early 
manhood :  the  flaming  anger,  the  blaz- 
ing conceit,  the  hot  ambition,  the  burn- 
ing pride,  the  consuming  lust.  Hours 
there  are,  at  this  stage  of  our  journey, 
when  all  the  atmosphere  of  the  inner 
life  quivers  with  the  heat  of  passion. 
And  the  ministry  which  Christ  per- 
forms in  these  crisis  hours  of  the  soul 
is  one  of  the  crowning  mercies  of  our 
lives.  He  calls  us  aside  for  a  season 
into  a  cooling  shade.  Nor  does  He 
50 


A  Noontide  Rest  in  the  Shade 

put  us  forth  again  until  the  danger  is 
past, 

Christ  shelters  us  from  the  heats  of 
life  in  the  shade  of  His  own  majestic 
PersonaHty.  The  thought  of  restora- 
tion in  the  protecting  shade  of  the 
divine  presence  occurs  repeatedly 
throughout  the  scriptures.  It  strikes 
the  key  note  of  the  ninety  first  psalm. 
"He  that  dwelleth  in  the  secret  place 
of  the  Most  High  shall  abide  under 
the  shadow  of  the  Almighty."  It  is 
the  central  idea  in  psalm  One  hundred 
and  twenty  one.  "The  Lord  is  thy 
shade  upon  thy  right  hand."  It  is  in 
view  of  this  that  the  promise  follows : — 
"The  sun  shall  not  smite  thee  by  day," 
Isaiah  dwells  upon  the  thought  with 
evident  dehght.  "For  thou  hast  been 
a  refuge  from  the  storm,  a  shadow 
from  the  heat."  Again,  with  the 
thought  of  the  di\inc  presence  in  his 
mind  he  sings,  "And  there  shall  be  a 
pavillion  for  a  shadow  in  the  daytime 
from  the  heat."  It  seems  to  have  been 
a  favourite  conception  with  the  old 
testament  writers,  f  amiUar  as  they  were 
with   the  kiUing  heats  of   the  Syrian 

51 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


plains,  that  the  gracious  Lord  was  as 
a  noontide  shade  to  fainting  pilgrims 
on  life's  weary  way.  The  thought  is 
even  more  familiar  and  more  comfort- 
ing to  us  who  think  of  God  as  revealed 
in  the  person  of  the  incarnate  Son. 
Jesus  Christ  standing  beside  us  calls 
us  into  the  sweetest,  coolest  shade 
that  was  ever  cast  upon  the  heated 
ways  of  Ufe.  He  is  "as  the  shadow 
of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary  land."  He 
is  like  an  umbrageous  tree,  laden  with 
refreshing  fruit,  inviting  us  to  a  de- 
hcious  banquet  beneath  its  boughs. 
He,  too,  is  fold  for  us  as  well  as  shep- 
herd. It  seems  to  have  been  with  the 
thought  of  the  noontide  heat  and  the 
noontide  fold  in  His  mind  that  He 
said  "I  am  the  door:  by  me  if  any 
man  enter  in,  he  shall  be  saved." 
Saved  from  the  noontide  heat. 

And  the  shade  with  which  the  pres- 
ence of  Christ  envelopes  the  soul  is 
wondrously  potent  in  restorative  effi- 
cacy. Even  the  sense  of  mystery 
which  He  flings  upon  our  hearts  has  a 
healing  coolness  in  it.  There  are 
mysteries  in  the  theanthropic  person- 
52 


A  Noontide  Rest  in  the  Shade 

ality  of  Christ  which  no  metaphysi- 
cian will  ever  solve.  In  the  depths  of 
His  being  there  are  impenetrable 
recesses.  He  towers  above  the  plain 
of  human  understanding  as  a  great 
rock  of  mystery.  We  should  be  very 
thankful  that  it  is  so.  This  element 
of  mystery  is  wholesome  for  us.  A 
Christ  whose  personality  presented  no 
unfathomable  deeps,  a  Christ  through 
whom  we  could  peer,  with  no  sense 
of  mystery  obstructing  our  human 
vision,  would  be  too  thin  and  unsub- 
stantial to  cast  the  cooling  shade.  The 
element  of  mystery  in  Christ  inspires 
reverence  and  awe.  The  airs  which 
blow  into  our  faces  from  the  abysmal 
deeps  of  His  inscrutable  personality, 
fan  all  the  baneful  fevers  from  our 
blood. 

Who  can  cherish  hatred  while  he 
kneels  in  the  presence  of  the  calm, 
gentle,  all-forgiving  One  whose  love 
passes  understanding  ?  Who  can  cher- 
ish pride  or  selfishness  while  he  lies 
at  the  foot  of  incarnate  humility 
and  selflessness?  Who  can  hold  his 
hot  ambitions  in  his  heart  while  he 
53 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


looks  up  into  the  face  of  Him  "who, 
being  in  the  form  of  God,  counted  it 
not  a  prize  to  be  on  an  equaUty  with 
God,  but  emptied  himself,  taking  the 
form  of  a  servant,  being  made  in  the 
likeness  of  men;  and  being  found  in 
fashion  as  a  man,  he  humbled  him- 
self, becoming  obedient  unto  death, 
yea,  the  death  of  the  cross."  Mys- 
tery? Yes,  the  shade  Christ  casts 
upon  us  is  thick  with  it.  But 
it  is  a  shade  in  which  the  soul 
may  sweetly  rest.  This  element  of 
mystery  is  indeed,  a  prime  condi- 
tion for  the  restoration  of  fainting 
human  souls.  Have  you  not  observed 
how  Jesus,  in  the  eleventh  chapter  of 
Matthew,  gives  a  background  of  mys- 
tery to  His  blessed  invitation  to  rest? 
There  is  not  another  passage  in  the 
Bible  where  the  airs  of  heaven  touch 
the  soul  more  wooingly  than  here. 
Yet  they  issue  from  an  impenetra- 
ble deep.  "No  one  knoweth  the 
Son,  save  the  Father ;  neither  doth 
any  know  the  Father,  save  the  Son, 
and  he  to  whomsoever  the  Son  willeth 
to  reveal  him."  There  glooms  the 
54 


A  Noontide  Rest  in  the  Shade 

rock  of  mystery.  But  in  the  shade  of 
it,  what  promise  of  restoration!  "Come 
unto  me,  all  ye  that  labour  and  are 
heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest. 
Take  my  yoke  upon  you  and  learn  of 
me ;  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart : 
and  ye  shall  find  rest  unto  your  souls. 
For  my  yoke  is  easy,  and  my  burden  is 
light." 

Furthermore,  the  shelter  which 
Christ  affords  is  the  shelter  of  His 
Cross.  Have  you  duly  appreciated 
the  majesty  of  the  cross  and  the  cool- 
ing shade  it  casts?  Be  not  always 
thinking  of  that  thing  of  wood,  that 
accursed  instrument  of  torture  upon 
which  they  crucified  Him.  The  real 
cross  was  the  one  He  carried  in  His 
heart.  The  uttermost  cross  was  that 
weight  which  pressed  upon  His  spirit, 
the  agony,  the  shame,  the  horror,  the 
sense  of  abandonment  which  He  en- 
dured as  sin-bearer  for  mankind.  He 
did  not  need  to  be  murdered  in  order 
to  become  the  atoning  sacrifice  for  sin. 
The  cross  which  He  carried  in  His 
heart  would  surely  and  speedily  have 
done  its  work  and  crushed  Him  into 
55 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


death.  That  cry  of  anguish,  "Now 
is  my  soul  troubled  and  what  shall  I 
say  ?  Father  save  me  from  this  hour  ? ' ' 
— that  sobbing  agony  in  the  garden, 
"Father  if  it  be  possible,  let  this 
cup  pass  from  me" — were  premoni- 
tions of  approaching  dissolution.  They 
tell  us  that  the  inner  cross  was  press- 
ing Him  through  the  gates  of  death. 
Had  Judas  never  betrayed  Him;  had 
Caiaphas  not  condemned  Him;  had 
Pilate  not  released  Him  to  the  mob; 
had  Roman  soldiers  never  stretched 
Him  on  the  wooden  cross,  nor  pierced 
His  hands  and  feet  with  nails ;  still  the 
cross  would  have  killed  Him.  In- 
deed, it  was  not  the  crucifixion  that 
put  Him  to  death.  He  died  of  a  broken 
heart.  No  man  took  His  life  from 
Him.  His  hour  was  come  and  though 
He  died  upon  the  cross  of  wood.  He 
laid  down  His  Hfe  of  Himself.  He  is 
the  Good  Shepherd  that  gave  His  life 
for  the  sheep. 

The  most  awful  and  yet  the  most 
comforting    vision    that     a    soul    op- 
pressed with  sin  can  ever  look  upon  is 
that  of  the  Son  of  God  bearing  the  sin 
56 


A  Noontide  Rest  in  the  Shade 

of  the  world.     What  mountains  of  in- 
iquity were  heaped  upon  Him! 

"  O  Christ,  what  burdens  bowed  Thy  head ! 
Our  load  was  laid  on  Thee; 
Thou  stoodest  in  the  sinner's  stead. 
Bearing  all  ill  for  me: 
A  victim  led,  Thy  blood  was  shed; 
Now  there's  no  load  for  me." 

Upon  that  load  of  iniquity  the  flames 
of  divine  indignation  were  kindled. 
That  was  the  fiercest  conflagration 
this  universe  ever  witnessed.  The 
fire  burned  through  until  it  touched 
the  ocean  fulness  of  righteousness  in 
Christ.  Then  it  went  out  like  a  spark 
in  the  sea.  Yes,  the  burden  broke  His 
heart  but  not  before  the  fire  had 
burned  itself  to  ashes.  Hence  it  is 
that  in  the  shadow  of  the  cross  such 
deep,  sweet  rest  is  found.  It  is  cool 
there,  and  safe  because  no  fuel  is  left 
for  the  flames  to  hght  upon.  And  so 
when  conscience  is  aflame  with  the 
sense  of  guilt,  when  the  spirit  burns 
with  remorse,  when  the  fires  of  judg- 
ment kindle  all  around  us,  we  flee  to 
the  cross  and  hide  and  arc  saved. 
57 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


Then,  again,  the  shade  in  which 
Christ  restores  the  soul  is  the  shade 
of  the  Throne.  The  Great  Shep- 
herd who  now  leads  the  flock  is  King 
of  kings  and  Lord  of  lords.  He  shep- 
herds stars  as  well  as  souls.  He  sits 
at  the  apex  of  the  universe  and  rules 
all  worlds.  The  lines  of  governance 
are  all  gathered  into  the  hands  that 
were  pierced.  And  what  a  speedy 
and  sure  restorative  for  the  trembling 
spirit  is  the  sense  of  Christ's  sovereign- 
ty! When  we  move  amid  "the  mad- 
dening maze  of  things";  when  the 
world  seems  Uke  an  arena  where  blind 
forces  clash  in  gladiatorial  contest; 
when  we  are  "heated  hot  with  burn- 
ing fears  and  dipt  in  baths  of  hissing 
tears";  when  there  seems  to  be  no 
order  or  justice  anywhere;  when  the 
very  earth  seems  to  reel  and  totter  be- 
neath our  unsteady  feet;  when  we  are 
dizzy  with  bewilderment  and  numb 
with  dread;  then  there  is  rest  and 
restoration  for  us  in  the  shadow  of 
Christ's  throne.  How  majestic  and 
calm  it  stands!  What  gospels  it  pro- 
claims!   One    steadfast    look    to    the 

58 


A  Noontide  Rest  in  the  Shade 

throne  of  grace  and  terror  dies.  It 
tells  us  that  all  the  forces  of  the  uni- 
verse are  in  leash  to  love.  In  that  as- 
surance the  erstwhile  fearful  one  can 
say,  "He  restoreth  my  soul." 

It  was  in  order  to  administer  this 
comfort  that  Christ  passed  through  the 
heavens,  and  sat  down  on  the  right 
hand  of  the  Majesty  on  high.  He 
holds  His  throne  for  the  succor  of  His 
flock.  It  is  a  foretaste  of  heaven  to 
rest  in  the  cool  of  the  throne.  There 
shall  be  no  alarms  in  that  heavenly 
life  because,  "He  that  sitteth  on  the 
throne  shall  spread  his  tabernacle 
over  them.  They  shall  hunger  no 
more,  neither  thirst  any  more;  neither 
shall  the  sun  strike  upon  them,  nor 
any  heat :  for  the  Lamb  which  is  in  the 
midst  of  the  throne  shall  be  their  shep- 
herd and  shall  lead  them  unto  foun- 
tains of  waters  of  life:  and  God  shall 
wipe  away  every  tear  from  their  eyes." 


59 


"Leader  of  faithful  souls,  and  Guide 
Of  all  who  travel  to  the  sky, 
Come  and  with  us,  e'en  us  abide, 
Who  would  on  Thee  alone  rely; 
On  Thee  alone  our  spirits  stay, 
While  held  in  life's  uneven  way." 

— Charles  Wesley 


CHAPTER  V 

AN  AFTERNOON   CLIMB   ON 
THE  PATHS 

"He  leadeth  me  in  the  paths  of  righteous- 
ness for  his  name's  sake." 

Here  and  there  in  the  grazing  coun- 
try of  Judea  the  traveller  will  come 
upon  narrow,  well-worn  paths.  Gen- 
erations of  shepherds  and  myriads  of 
flocks  have  trodden  these  old  ways. 
They  are  the  recognized  highways, 
traversing  the  land  from  well  to  well 
and  from  fold  to  fold.  To  come  upon 
one  of  these  paths  is  to  pick  up  a  clue 
that  leads  out  from  the  mazes  of 
the  wilderness  to  some  familiar  ren- 
dezvous. A  competent  shepherd  has 
expert  knowledge  of  all  these  paths. 
Only  with  this  knowledge  can  he  plan 
the  day's  pilgrimage  with  accuracy 
and  preclude  the  danger  of  being 
overtaken  with  his  flock  by  night  in 
wild  and  undefended  places. 

The  picture  which  we  have  before 
us  now  is  that  of  the  shepherd  guiding 
63 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


his  rested  and  freshened  flock  along 
one  of  these  old  paths.  It  was  a  for- 
tunate thing  for  the  sheep  that  they 
had  experienced  the  rest  and  refresh- 
ment of  the  well  before  they  attempted 
the  long  strip  of  road  that  stretches 
before  them  now.  Restoration  there 
has  conditioned  them  for  sturdy  cUmb- 
ing  here.  For  these  paths  are  often 
steep  and  stony,  severely  testing  the 
flock's  strength.  Before  the  day  is 
done  and  the  night  fold  reached,  they 
must  make  heavy  draught  upon  their 
stored-up  energy. 

The  teaching  here  has  special  ap- 
plication to  the  strenuous  side  of 
spiritual  Kfe.  That  life  is  not  all  spent 
in  feeding  in  green  pastures  and  drink- 
ing from  cool  fountains.  The  greater 
part  of  it  consists  in  toilful  tramping 
on  the  flinty  paths  of  duty.    True, — 

"The  path  of  duty   is  the  way  to  glory," 

but  to  win  that  glory  we  must 

'*  On  with  toil  of  heart  and  knees  and  hands," 

over  long  leagues  of  dusty  road  that 
sorely  test  our  staying  power. 
64 


An  Afternoon  Climb  on  the  Paths 

The  period  of  middle  life  is  a  critical 
and  often  perilous  time  in  Christian 
experience.  It  is  on  that  hot,  hard 
stretch  of  the  road  between  the  years 
of  thirty-five  and  fifty  that  the  reserve 
force  of  the  spirit  is  most  severely  taxed. 
The  way  grows  a  little  cooler,  and, 
perhaps,  more  level  after  that ;  but  on 
these  miles  the  grade  is  heavy  and  the 
sun  strikes  hot.  Here  many  a  life 
deteriorates.  Its  ideals  droop.  Its 
enthusiasms  wither.  These  are  years 
of  disillusionment.  Mirages  fade. 
Disguises  are  detected.  The  cos- 
metic cracks.  Veneers  peel  ofiF.  The 
siren's  song,  that  to  the  unsuspecting 
youth  had  sounded  clear  and  true, 
now  ends  in  hollow,  mocking  laugh- 
ter. Over  the  disillusioned  soul  there 
spreads  the  pale  cast  of  cynicism.  The 
mood  grows  pessimistic.  The  cup  of 
reverie  has  a  bitter  taste.  Signs  of 
exhaustion  appear.  There  is  a  sug- 
gestion of  autumn  in  the  air.  The 
song-birds  seem  to  have  departed.  In- 
terests that  once  excited  us  become 
suddenly  puerile,  frivolous  and  vain. 
We  grow  analytical  and  introspective, 
5  65 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


and  life  loses  the  billowy  rush  of  those 
tidal-waves  of  enthusiasm  which  once 
swept  so  invincibly  through  the  soul. 
Where  once  there  was  an  ardent  flame 
of  hope  burning  in  the  soul,  there  is 
nothing  left  but  a  poor  smudge  from 
a  smoking  wick. 

Is  there  no  preventive  against  all 
this?  Is  there  no  way  to  preserve 
the  virility  and  spontaneity  of  the 
spirit  through  the  trying  years  of  mid- 
dle Ufe?  Must  we  all  come  to  their 
close  with  lowered  ideals  and  burnt- 
out  hearts?  The  psalm  gives  answer. 
And  it  is  just  the  answer  that  we  long 
to  hear.  It  assures  us  that  in  the 
companionship  of  God  there  is  a  con- 
tinuous renewal  for  us  in  the  spirit  of 
the  mind.  "He  restoreth  my  soul." 
He  carries  on  a  process  of  recreation 
that  defies  the  ravages  of  time.  As 
the  days  go  by  new  flowers  spring  up 
within  the  soul  and  new  song-birds 
build  their  nests  among  its  boughs. 
This  note  of  renewal  is  one  upon  which 
the  psalmist  loves  to  dwell.  He  strikes 
it  again  and  again.  Of  the  man  who 
lives  in  communion  with  God  he 
66 


An  Afternoon  Climb  on  the  Paths 

affirms  that  "his  leaf  shall  not  wither" ; 
"he  shall  be  full  of  sap  and  green;" 
his  "youth  is  renewed  like  the  eagle's" ; 
he  shall "  go  from  strength  to  strength." 
The  same  assurance  is  repeated 
in  the  New  Testament,  only  in  a 
higher,  clearer,  sweeter  strain.  Jesus 
said:  "Whosoever  drinketh  of  the 
water  that  I  shall  give  him  shall  never 
thirst;  but  the  water  that  I  shall  give 
him  shall  become  in  him  a  well  of 
water  springing  up  unto  eternal  Hfe." 
The  picture  of  an  inextinguishable 
vitality  reappears  again  with  height- 
ened color  upon  the  glowing  canvas 
of  the  Revelation.  "And  he  showed 
me  a  pure  river  of  water  of  life,  bright 
as  crystal,  proceeding  out  of  the  throne 
of  God  and  of  the  Lamb.  In  the  midst 
of  the  street  thereof  .  .  .  was  the 
tree  of  life."  Mark  those  words,  in 
the  midst  of  the  street.  The  thronged, 
trampled  street!  There,  where  the 
crowds  jostle!  There,  where  traffic 
goes!  There,  where  the  multitude 
passes  on  heedless,  hurraing  feet! 
It  is  the  last  place,  one  would  think, 
where  verdure  could  appear.  But 
67 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


even  there  "the  tree  of  life  is  bloom- 
ing." It  is  the  final  word  of  inspira- 
tion concerning  the  invincible  virility 
of  the  God-nourished  soul.  In  such 
a  soul  the  verdure  cannot  be  extermi- 
nated. It  cannot  be  trampled  out, 
whether  by  hoof,  or  heel,  or  wheel.  It 
does  seem  to  us  sometimes,  in  the  busy 
days  of  middle  life,  when  we  are 
thronged  with  multitudinous  duties 
and  cares  and  responsibilities,  that 
our  souls  become  like  the  open  city 
streets.  We  seem  to  be  without 
"shelter  to  grow  strong,  or  leisure  to 
grow  wise."  It  looks  to  us,  at  these 
times,  as  though  the  bloom  of  life  had 
gone  forever.  It  is  then  we  need  the 
message  which  is  spoken  here.  Fed 
from  the  fountain  in  the  throne, 
through  the  conduit  of  faith,  the  tree 
of  life  springs  up  "in  the  midst  of  the 
street." 

Furthermore,  the  teaching  here  sets 
forth  a  precious  fact  concerning  God's 
guidance  of  us  through  these  strenu- 
ous days  of  life.  Sheep  are  proverbi- 
ally witless  creatures.  They  are  al- 
most utterly  devoid  of  the  sense  of 
68 


An  Afternoon  Climb  on  the  Paths 

direction,  pathetically  unable  to  choose 
their  path,  and  hence  extremely  liable 
to  lose  their  way  if  unattended  by  a 
guide. 

And  we  all,  like  sheep,  do  go  astray 
unless  a  divine  pathfinder  directs  our 
steps.  No  more  mischievous  halluci- 
nation can  beset  a  human  soul  than 
that  of  a  fancied  self-sufficiency  for 
finding  the  true  line  of  march.  All 
the  native  energy  of  mind  will  be 
wasted,  and  all  the  acquired  strength 
of  youth  be  frittered  away  in  a  blind 
fumbhng  for  the  path,  if  there  be  not 
with  us  a  guide  who  can  overlook  all 
the  ways  and  see  through  all  our  days 
from  the  cradle  to  the  grave. 

But  men  will  ask.  Is  not  Conscience 
an  infalUble  guide?  Conscience,  in- 
deed, holds  high  office  in  the  human 
soul,  but  conscience  is  not  pathfinder 
for  us.  Conscience  is  the  faculty  of 
moral  discrimination,  not  of  moral 
discovery.  Conscience  approves  or 
disapproves  of  paths  which  are  pointed 
out  to  us,  but  conscience  finds  no  path 
of  itself.  Conscience  is  the  command- 
ing officer  abiding  in  the  tent  and  de- 
69 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


ciding  upon  the  movements  of  the 
army  according  to  reports  which  the 
scouts  bring  in.  Or  we  may  say,  con- 
science is  a  judge  adjudicating  between 
acts,  motives,  tendencies,  when  these 
are  submitted  for  trial  before  its  court. 
But  it  can  only  handle  the  case  in  view 
of  the  evidence  presented  before  it. 
If  the  evidence  is  false  or  defective,  the 
verdict  is  correspondingly  corrupted. 
Hence  it  has  come  to  pass  that  many 
of  the  blackest  crimes  which  have 
stained  the  annals  of  the  world  have 
been  done  in  the  name  and  under  the 
approval  of  conscience.  Conscience 
commands,  but  conscience  cannot 
guide. 

But  may  we  not  fall  back  upon 
Reason  for  our  guide — reason,  the 
scout  of  the  soul,  its  ranger  and  out- 
rider? Here  truly  we  have  a  power 
of  discovery,  but  of  its  sad  incom- 
petence to  find  the  way  of  life  and 
peace  the  history  of  mankind  gives 
tragic  and  conclusive  proof.  ''There 
is  a  way  that  seemeth  right  unto  a 
man,  but  the  end  thereof  are  the  ways 
of  death."  No  keener  intellects  ever 
70 


An  Afternoon  Climb  on  the  Paths 

grappled  with  the  problems  of  duty 
and  of  destiny  than  those  whose  names 
appear  in  the  best  literature  of  Rome. 
But  the  way  of  life  they  did  not  find. 
In  "  Athens,  the  eye  of  Greece,"  the 
light  of  reason  shone  with  sparkling 
brilliancy.  Yet  Athens  rotted  to  the 
bone.  The  vilest  vices  flourished  in 
the  very  shadow  of  its  altar  "to  an 
unknown  God."  And  when  has  the 
world  witnessed  a  wilder  orgy  of  lust, 
a  more  unbridled  carnival  of  crime, 
than  in  that  devil's  dance  of  Paris 
under  the  reign  of  "The  Goddess  of 
Reason  "  ?  Or  look  at  things  as  they 
are  in  India  to-day.  There  are  no 
subtler  minds  thinking  through  human 
brains  than  you  may  meet  among  the 
educated  Brahmins  of  Calcutta  and 
Madras.  Yet  the  soul  of  a  decent 
man  fairly  swoons  with  disgust  and 
horror  when  a  missionary  whispers 
into  his  ear  the  story  of  their  lives. 

But  is  there  not  in  man,  at  least 
in  some  men,  an  Intuitional  Faculty 
upon  which  they  may  depend  for  safe 
guidance  in  the  ordering  of  life  ?  It  is 
confidently  afiirmed  by  modern  repre- 
71 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


sentatives  of  "the  Greek  spirit"  that 
in  these  naive  intuitions  of  the  heart 
the  true  light  of  life  is  found.  Live  the 
life,  they  tell  us,  of  an  unfettered  earth- 
child!  Give  free  play  to  every  im- 
pulse as  it  rises!  Let  your  life  re- 
spond to  all  the  beauty  and  the  music 
and  the  gladness  of  the  world!  Set 
yourself  forth  Uke  an  iEolian  harp 
where  all  the  inspirations  of  the 
lovely  nature-world  can  touch  you! 
So  shall  you  live  ideally.  So  shall  you 
fulfil  the  purpose  of  your  being  and 
achieve  your  appointed  destiny.  An 
accepted  apostle  of  this  doctrine,  now 
so  much  in  vogue  in  art  salons  and 
circles  of  assthetical  clubdom,  appeared 
some  years  ago  in  England.  He — 
I  shall  not  stain  these  pages  with  his 
name — claimed  to  be  "a  child  of 
nature,"  "a  son  of  song  and  sun- 
shine." He  would  teach  a  dull  and 
over-serious  age  the  way  to  live.  He 
would  be  the  harbinger  of  a  bright 
renaissance.  With  a  graceful  wave 
of  his  lavender  gloved  hand,  he  dis- 
missed all  the  commonly  accepted 
canons  of  conduct  and  relegated  the 
72 


An  Afternoon  Climb  on  the  Paths 

religious  and  ethical  ideas  of  his  time 
to  limbo.  Poor,  filthy  fool,  it  was  not 
long  before  he  trod  a  prison  cell,  clank- 
ing the  felon's  ball  and  chain.  The 
light  he  followed  was  light  from  hell. 

The  guide  we  need  is  a  guide  from 
heaven.  Jesus  Christ  is  the  guide  we 
need.  Above  the  intuitions,  above  the 
reason,  above  the  conscience,  yet  cor- 
recting them  and  uniting  them  all  in 
coalescent  action,  He  stands  and  points 
our  path. 

"He  leadeth  me  in  the  paths  of 
righteousness." 

The  very  God,  yet  a  man  and  our 
Brother,  stands  in  our  midst  and 
cries,  "  He  that  followeth  me  shall 
not  walk  in  darkness,  but  shall  have 
the  light  of  life."  He  was  the  one 
man  of  all  Time's  millions  who  could 
wrap  the  drapery  of  this  psalm  about 
Him  and  say  without  the  slightest 
hint  of  egotism,  as  He  shook  out  all 
its  shining  folds — "I  am  the  good 
shepherd."  Men  have  declared  that 
amid  all  the  recorded  words  of  Jesus 
we  can  find  no  claim  of  His  to  Deity. 
But  what  more  definite  claim  could  He 
73 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


lay  to  Godhood  than  to  lift  from  the 
jewel  case  of  the  Psalter  this  diadem 
of  song,  dedicated  to  Jehovah,  and 
calmly  place  it  upon  his  own  brow? 
Unblushingly  He  appropriated  to  Him- 
self this  royal  robe  and  crown. 
The  centuries  have  looked  and  con- 
fessed that  they  are  His  own  by  every 
right.  The  royal  apparel  befits  His 
regal  form.  Here  is  one  who  can 
guide.  He  knows  his  sheep.  He  knows 
the  way.  He  sees  through  Hf  e  and  death. 
He  sees  through  time  and  eternity. 
He  sees  through  the  heart  of  God. 

The  shepherd  guides  his  flock  by 
walking  before  them  in  the  way.  They 
follow  him,  keeping  his  moving  form 
in  view. 

The  secret  of  a  right  life  for  man 
is  in  looking  to  Jesus,  and  keeping 
Him  in  sight.  He  is  not  merely 
geographer  for  us,  but  guide;  not 
merely  chart-maker  of  the  way,  but 
escort  in  the  way.  "  When  he  putteth 
forth  his  own  he  goeth  before  them." 
Christ  is  ever  a  shining  presence  on 
the  paths  of  duty.  Any  gap  in  the 
line  of  duty  left  unilluminated  would 
74 


An  Afternoon  Climb  on  the  Paths 

be  for  Him  the  graveyard  of  His  repu- 
tation. He  must  bring  the  flock 
through  in  safety — "  for  his  name's 
sake."  He  always  gives  us  light 
enough  to  walk  by.  In  following  Him 
the  next  step  is  always  plain.  If  we 
"ask  to  see  the  distant  scene,"  the 
request  may  be  denied.  If  on  the 
march  we  halt  to  theorize  upon  the 
myster}'  of  His  personality,  His  form 
may  grow  dim  and  indistinct.  To 
the  speculative  reason  Christ  may  be- 
come a  spectral  form,  gUding  ghostHke 
through  the  gloom.  But  to  earnest- 
hearted  seekers  for  guidance  in  the 
way  of  righteousness  He  presently  ap- 
pears in  radiancy.  Yes,  there  is  al- 
ways light  enough  to  walk  by.  There 
always  comes  quick  answer  to  our 
heart  cry,  "What  would  Jesus  do?" 

"Stand  ye  in  the  ways  and  see,  and 
ask  for  the  old  paths,  where  is  the 
good  way,  and  walk  therein,  and  ye 
shall  find  rest  for  your  souls." 


75 


"  I  do  not  ask,  O  Lord,  that  Thou  shouldst  shed 
Full  radiance  here; 
Give  but  a  ray  of  peace,  that  I  may  tread 
Without  a  fear." 

— A.  A.  Procter. 


CHAPTER    VI 

ADVENTURES      IN      THE 
SHADOWED   GLEN 

"Yea,  though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of 
the  shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear  no  evil;  for 
thou  art  with  me;  thy  rod  and  thy  staff  they 
comfort  me." 

The  land  of  Judea  is  pierced  in 
every  direction  by  deep  and  narrow 
glens.  In  these  the  shadows  gather 
early  in  the  afternoon.  No  sooner 
does  the  sun  begin  its  westering  than 
the  glens  commence  to  fill  with  gloom. 

To  lead  a  flock  through  one  of  these 
sunless  canyons  is  always  an  adventure 
attended  by  grave  peril.  The  shep- 
herd here  must  be  alert,  with  every 
sense  on  guard. 

Behold  him  now,  as,  gripping  his 
stout  staff,  and  with  every  nerve  at 
tension,  he  warily  enters  the  glen,  the 
flock  following  hard  at  his  heels !  Cau- 
tiously he  threads  the  gloom,  inter- 
preting with  practised  eye  and  ear 
each  sight  and  sound  and  movement 
79 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


in  the  enveloping  shadows.  With  his 
rod  he  smites  the  ground  before  him 
and  to  right  and  left.  There  the  soft 
earth  yields.  It  is  the  quaking  bog 
where  a  sheep  may  speedily  be  sucked 
to  death  in  the  black  ooze.  He  sig- 
nals the  flock  to  halt,  thrusting  back 
the  eager  leaders  with  his  body,  or 
smartly  striking  a  too  pushful  one  with 
his  staff.  Nor  does  he  put  them  forward 
again  until  he  has  found  the  safe  detour. 

Now  an  ugly  rock  obstructs  the 
way.  He  must  guide  carefully  here, 
else  its  sharp  points  may  disembowel 
some  hapless  sheep  crushed  against 
it  in  the  eager  crowding  of  the  flock. 

He  keeps  a  keen  lookout  for  wild 
beasts,  since  in  these  shades  a  wolf 
may  lurk,  or  a  panther  make  its  lair. 
Should  he  hear  a  growl,  or  find  him- 
self confronted  by  a  pair  of  blazing 
eyes,  his  shrill  whistle  sounds  instant 
alarm  to  stay  the  flock.  Bravely  then 
he  springs  to  battle,  and  with  resound- 
ing blows  of  his  mighty  staff  drives 
the  brute  before  him  until  it  sHnks 
away  bleeding  in  pain  or  foaming 
with  baffled  rage. 

80 


Adventures  in  the  Shadowed  Glen 

Such  are  the  adventures  of  the  glen, 
and  in  these  adventures  the  shepherd 
gives  the  crowning  evidence  of  his 
skill  and  heroism. 

No  portion  of  the  psalm  comes 
closer  home  to  personal  experience 
than  this  which  we  have  before  us 
now.  It  is  instinct  with  the  romance 
of  religion — a-thrill  with  the  spirit  of 
divine  knight-errantry. 

Shadows  fall  early  into  human  life. 
While  yet  we  are  far  from  "sunset 
and  evening  star,"  our  path  dips  down 
into  the  glen  that  is  filled  with  gloom. 
"The  shadow  of  death!"  How  many 
deaths  there  are  other  than  our  own, 
which  fling  their  chilling  shadows  into 
our  hearts!  The  death  of  your  friend, 
your  lover,  your  other-Ufe;  the  death 
of  your  hope  through  the  collapse  of 
some  cherished  plan;  the  death  of 
your  personal  ambitions  amid  "the 
sUngs  and  arrows  of  outrageous  for- 
tune"; the  death  of  your  good  name 
under  the  assaults  of  slander — these 
are  but  a  few  of  the  experiences  which 
may  intercept  the  sunUght  and  fill  your 
glen  vdth  gloom. 
6  8i 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


Commentators  are  fond  of  telling 
us  that  the  "shadows  cannot  hurt." 
That  is  but  a  shallow  optimism  play- 
ing with  a  poor  platitude.  It  contra- 
dicts the  facts  of  experience.  Ask 
that  worse  than  widowed  wife,  sitting 
in  the  shadow  of  her  husband's  crime, 
what  she  knows  about  it!  Ask  the 
children  walking  in  the  shadow  of 
their  parents'  shame!  Ask  the  hus- 
band standing  in  the  shadow  cast  by 
the  death  of  her  who  was  the  centre  of 
all  his  interests  and  the  source  of  all 
his  comfort!  Ask  the  multitude  of 
the  incapacitated,  broken  ere  their 
prime — students,  singers,  artists, 
preachers — ask  them  if  the  shadow 
hurts!  Nay,  we  do  not  need  to  ask. 
The  shadow  does  hurt.  Sometimes  it 
kills. 

And  then  the  horrible  things  which 
breed  in  the  shadows  and  lurk  and 
raven  there!  Out  of  the  shadow  of 
unhealth  have  we  not  seen  the  tiger 
creep  in  the  form  of  a  craving  for 
nerve-stimulation  ?  It  seemed  a  docile 
creature  as  it  followed  at  the  elbow  of 
the  jaded  man  of  business,  or  purred 
82 


Adventures  in  the  Shadowed  Glen 

at  the  feet  of  an  exhausted  mother,  or 
awaited  the  brain-fagged  professional 
man  at  his  office  door.  Fawning  and 
friendly  it  appeared,  as  it  softly  knelt 
beside  the  couch  of  the  tired  toiler  and 
Ucked  the  hands  which  hung  down 
relaxed  and  Hstless,  But  once  it  got 
the  taste  of  blood  it  crouched  for  the 
fatal  spring. 

In  the  shadow  of  their  disappoint- 
ment or  bereavement,  how  many  lose 
their  way,  plunging  into  recklessness, 
to  be  presently  bogged  in  a  hell- 
hole of  uncleanness.  "  Deceived — aban- 
doned!" These  two  words  tell  the 
story  of  countless  castaways.  We 
know,  nay,  we  do  not  know,  how  many 
thousands  of  women  go  reeUng  to  de- 
struction down  the  dim  aisles  of  the 
years  made  dark  and  hopeless  for 
them  by  the  men  who  owed  them  rev- 
erence and  love.  We  remember,  too, 
another  multitude  of  unfortunates 
who  in  the  shadow  of  financial  ruin 
grind  their  very  souls  out  against  the 
jutting  crags  of  poverty  which  now 
obstruct  their  path!  Few,  indeed, 
there  are  who  emerge  from  the  glen 
83 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


with  untom  garments  and  shining  face. 

Far  different  is  it  with  the  souls 
which  keep  close  to  Christ.  In  the 
valley,  dark  with  the  piled -up  black- 
ness of  all  the  shadows,  they  "  fear  no 
evil."  He  who,  vdih  the  pangs  of  the 
cross  upon  Him,  refused  the  drugged 
wine,  drives  before  them  the  wild 
beasts  of  abnormal  appetite.  He  who, 
though  abandoned  and  betrayed, 
kept  to  love  and  faith  and  service 
along  the  pain-path,  leads  them  away 
from  the  slough  into  which  they  would 
otherwise  stumble  with  careless  feet. 
He  who  maintained  that  brave,  sweet 
dignity  and  patience  through  the  years 
when  He  had  not  where  to  lay  his  head, 
cushions  for  them  the  piercing  points 
of  poverty.  This  is  the  testimony  of 
all  who  have  followed  Him  "amid  the 
encircUng  gloom." 

"Thou  art  with  me."  These  four 
little  monosyllables  make  a  magic 
charm  to  ward  off  fear  of  evil.  They 
are  Hke  a  wall  of  steel  around  the  soul. 
This  is  the  first  time  that  the  second 
personal  pronoun  occurs  in  the  psalm. 
Up  to  this  point  the  references  to 
84 


Adventures  in  the  Shadowed  Glen 

Jehovah  have  all  been  in  the  third 
person.  "  He  "  does  all  ''  He  "  feeds, 
refreshes,  restores,  and  guides.  But 
now  there  is  a  change.  "Thou"  art 
with  mc.  The  new  form  of  address 
indicates  a  relation  of  increasing  inti- 
macy between  the  shepherd  and  the 
sheep.  It  marks  an  advance  from 
the  mood  of  reflection  to  that  of  com- 
munion. The  change  of  mood  cor- 
responds to  changed  conditions.  It  is 
a  'significant  fact  that  it  is  in  the  glen 
the  first  "Thou"  rings  out.  The 
sheep  crowd  closest  to  their  shepherd 
in  the  darkness.  He  becomes  eyes 
for  them.  "He  knoweth  what  is  in 
the  darkness;"  the  darkness  behind 
them,  the  darkness  around  them,  the 
darkness  before  them.  "The  dark- 
ness and  the  light  are  both  alike"  to 
Him.     His  presence  is  their  safety. 

Not  only  is  there  safety  in  the  glen, 
but  comfort  also,  for  those  who  abide 
by  the  shepherd.  IVIanifold  are  the 
comfortings  of  the  shepherd's  rod.  It 
comforts  me  when  it  tests  the  road 
before  me.  It  comforts  me  when  it 
fences   me   oflf  from   danger,   though 

85 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


then  it  may  seem  like  an  iron  wall 
across  my  path.  It  comforts  me  when 
it  lifts  me  from  my  fall.  It  comforts 
me  in  beating  back  the  foe.  It  com- 
forts me  even  when  it  smites  me. 
Have  you  never  thought  that  it  is  the 
sheep  nearest  the  shepherd  which  re- 
ceives the  warning  blow  when  sud- 
den danger  threatens  ?  Think  it  not 
strange  if  it  falls  on  thee  when  thou 
art  following  close!  Thou  art  in  the 
very  place  to  receive  the  stroke.  Canst 
thou  not  endure,  yea,  even  welcome 
it,  for  thy  safety  and  the  safety  of 
those  who  may  be  following  thee  ?  It 
is  His  recognition  of  thy  nearness  to 
Him  and  of  thy  leadership  among  His 
people.  "Whom  the  Lord  loveth  he 
chasteneth." 

Sometimes  the  stroke  is  for  correc- 
tive ends.  I  once  heard  of  a  Scottish 
shepherd  who  was  sorely  tried  by  the 
frequent  misadventures  of  one  wild 
lamb.  It  gave  more  trouble  than  all 
the  flock.  It  seemed  incorrigible. 
One  day  the  shepherd  took  that  lamb 
and  deliberately  broke  its  leg.  Cruel 
shepherd  ?  Nay.  Having  broken  the 
86 


Adventures  in  the  Shadowed  Glen 

leg,  he  carefully  set  it  again,  tenderly 
bound  it  up,  and  then  lovingly  carried 
the  helpless  creature  in  a  sling  about 
his  shoulders.  Day  after  day,  while 
the  healing  was  in  process,  the  shep- 
here  bore  the  lamb,  giving  it  food  and 
drink  from  his  own  hand.  He  nursed 
it  with  a  mother's  tenderness.  When 
the  healing  was  complete  and  the  lamb 
was  placed  upon  its  feet  again,  it  was 
seen  to  be  the  closest  follower  in  the 
flock.  It  never  left  the  shepherd's 
side  again. 

It  was  even  thus  that  the  Shepherd, 
whom  he  now  praises,  treated  David 
in  the  days  of  his  wild  heart-wander- 
ings. God  broke  that  wanderer's  leg 
that  He  might  carry  him  in  His  arms 
for  a  season,  until  he  should  learn  the 
depths  of  grief  and  love  divine.  We 
have  the  story  of  that  experience  in 
the  thirty-second  psalm.  He  speaks 
of  the  time  when  God's  hand  was 
heavy  upon  him;  when  his  bones 
waxed  old  through  his  roaring  all  day 
long;  when  his  moisture  was  turned 
into  the  drought  of  summer.  And 
then  God  took  that  fevered,  sick,  com- 
87 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


plaining  soul  and  shed  upon  it  a  great 
and  healing  grace.  In  boundless  mer- 
cy He  forgave  the  iniquity  of  his 
sin.  In  the  warm,  close  clasp  of  par- 
doning love  the  Shepherd  whispered 
to  His  stricken  one  the  inner  meaning 
of  the  stroke.  *'I  will  instruct  thee 
and  teach  thee  in  the  way  which  thou 
shalt  go:  I  will  guide  thee  with  mine 
eye."  David  needed  no  bit  or  bridle 
after  that  to  keep  him  near.  There- 
after, God  could  lead  him  by  a  look. 

"Come  and  let  us  return  unto  the 
Lord:  for  he  hath  torn  and  he 
will  heal  us;  he  hath  smitten  and 
he  will  bind  us  up.  After  two  days 
he  will  revive  us :  on  the  third  day  he 
will  raise  us  up,  and  we  shall  live 
before  him.  And  let  us  know,  let  us 
follow  on  to  know  the  Lord." 


"Peace,    perfect   peace,    with   sorrows   surging 
round  ? 
On  Jesus'  bosom  nought  but  calm  is  found. 

"Peace,    perfect    peace,    death    shadowing    us 
and  ours? 
Jesus    hath    vanquished    death    and    all    its 
powers." 

— E.  H.  Bickersteth, 


CHAPTER   VII 

SUPPER  ON   THE  DARKENING 
WOLD 

"Thou  preparest  a  table  before  me  in  the 
presence  of  mine  enemies." 

Now  the  flock  emerges  from  the 
glen.  The  sun  is  sinking  toward  the 
west,  and  soon  the  darkness  will  come 
drifting  down.  There  is  only  time  for 
the  evening  meal  before  the  flock  is 
folded  for  the  night. 

Several  facts  concerning  this  even- 
ing meal  arc  specially  worthy  of  con- 
sideration. 

A  good  shepherd  seeks  to  make  the 
supper  for  his  flock  the  sweetest  meal 
of  the  day.  If  there  is  one  bit  of  past- 
ure greener  and  richer  than  the  rest, 
he  reserves  that  for  the  day's  end.  I 
have  seen  a  shepherd  in  the  sunset 
hour  call  his  sheep  from  the  commons 
and  turn  them  into  the  fenced  field  of 
clover  that  they  might  go  full-fed  to 
their  rest.  Herdmen  do  the  same  for 
their  cattle. 

91 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


What  a  picture  of  peace  it  makes — 
this  supper  on  the  darkening  wold — 
when  the  sheep  feed  richly  on  the 
guarded  green!  For  now  the  dew  is 
again  upon  the  earth.  The  grass  is 
moist.  The  air  is  incense-laden  from 
the  flowers  which  all  day  long  have 
been  breathing  forth  their  fragrance. 
And  the  fold  is  near. 

The  analogy  holds  true  in  the  ex- 
perience of  Christ's  followers.  The 
■Shepherd  and  Bishop  of  our  souls  re- 
serves His  choicest  swards  for  the  del- 
ectation of  our  later  days.  Beulah 
Land  hes  near  the  bounds  of  life.  It 
comes  after  the  long  march  on  the 
roads  and  the  adventures  in  the  glen. 
Let  those  who  face  the  "sunset  of  life" 
lay  this  comfort  on  their  hearts!  The 
gospel  is  "a  great  supper,"  as  well  as 
a  satisfying  breakfast,  for  the  soul. 
It  opens  into  the  richest  enclosures 
toward  the  day's  end.  Our  Shepherd 
surpasses  Himself  in  the  banquet  which 
He  spreads  for  His  followers  on  the 
evening  tablelands  of  life. 

"In  the  presence  of  mine  enemies." 
The  day's  dangers  are  not  ended  with 
92 


Supper  on  the  Darkening  Wold 

the  finding  of  the  evening  feeding- 
ground.  This  period  of  the  day  has 
its  own  pecuHar  perils.  This  is  the 
hour  when  the  wolf  is  emboldened  in 
its  approach.  It  is  the  time  when  the 
robber  creeps  near  to  mark  his  prey. 
Now,  too,  the  vulture  eyes  the  scene. 
They,  as  well  as  the  sheep,  are  looking 
for  an  evening  meal. 

A  good  shepherd  will  carefully  in- 
spect the  evening  pasture-ground  be- 
fore he  calls  his  sheep  to  feed.  He 
scans  the  hillsides  for  any  suspicious 
movements  that  may  betoken  an 
enemy's  approach.  With  long  knife 
drawn  and  ready  for  use,  should  sud- 
den need  of  it  arise,  he  makes  a  care- 
ful circuit  of  the  feeding-ground,  thus 
by  his  precautionary  movements  de- 
scribing a  circle  of  safety  within  the 
rim  of  danger. 

The  picture  here  is  one  of  extraor- 
dinary power.  What  an  heroic  figure 
the  shepherd  makes  as  he  thus  stands 
forth  before  the  flock,  and  before  their 
enemies  and  his.  He  but  needs  to 
show  himself  and  enemies  are  cowed. 
The  lightnings  of  his  eyes  strike  terror 
93 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


to  their  hearts.  At  the  menace  of  his 
look  they  slink  away.  He  who  is  all 
gentleness  towards  the  flock  is  an  over- 
whelming terror  towards  the  foes 
which  threaten  them.  They  do  not 
dare  dispute  the  sward  with  him. 
They  have  no  courage  to  come  to  com- 
bat here.  They  might  risk  an  en- 
counter in  the  shadowed  glen,  but  not 
here,  where  they  can  take  the  measure 
of  his  form.  It  was  conquest  for  the 
shepherd  there;  it  is  a  bloodless  tri- 
umph for  him  here.  He  stands  the 
undisputed  master  of  the  field.  The 
enemies  may  look  upon  it;  they  dare 
not  leap  upon  it.  Thus  the  shepherd 
makes  a  show  of  them  openly  by  call- 
ing the  sheep  to  come  and  feast  in 
their  very  presence. 

The  scene  at  this  point  suggests  an- 
other impressive  feature  of  Christ's 
shepherding  of  men.  There  comes  a 
time  in  the  experience  of  those  who 
closely  follow  Him  when  the  very 
majesty  of  His  manifested  presence 
quells  all  foes  and  makes  a  place  of 
quiet  feasting  for  the  soul.  There 
comes  a  time  when  even  Satan  knows 
94 


Supper  on  the  Darkening  Wold 

that  the  soul  has  passed  beyond  his 
power  and  he  calls  off  his  dogs  of  war. 
Have  you  noticed  the  progress 
towards  this  condition  of  unchallenged 
security  in  the  experience  of  St.  Paul? 
Compare  again  the  seventh  and  eighth 
chapters  of  his  epistle  to  the  Romans! 
The  seventh  chapter  is  the  shadowed 
glen.  It  is  thick  with  gloom.  It  re- 
sounds with  the  din  of  warfare.  The 
panthers  of  evil  passion  snap  and 
snarl.  Yet  Christ  is  there,  with  rod 
and  staff,  and  so  His  follower  goes  for- 
ward, though  with  stress  and  strain. 
But  in  the  eighth  chapter  the  apostle 
is  with  his  Lord  on  higher  ground. 
He  breathes  another  air,  the  air  of  the 
wold.  All  now  is  quietness  and  con- 
fidence and  sense  of  restfulness.  Not 
that  all  enemies  are  slain,  but  all  are 
quelled  before  the  presence  of  the  sov- 
ereign Christ.  The  heroic  face  of  the 
Son  of  God  has  been  turned  full  on 
the  field  and  before  the  majesty  of  that 
face  all  enemies  retire  awe-stricken 
and  undone.  "  We  were  accounted 
as  sheep  for  the  slaughter."  "  Yet  we 
are  more  than  conquerors  through  him 
95 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


that  loved  us.  For  I  am  persuaded 
that  neither  death,  nor  life,  nor  angels, 
nor  principaUties,  nor  powers,  nor 
things  present,  nor  things  to  come,  nor 
height,  nor  depth,  nor  any  other  crea- 
ture, shall  be  able  to  separate  us  from 
the  love  of  God,  which  is  in  Christ 
Jesus  our  Lord." 

The  consciousness  of  a  table  pre- 
pared in  the  presence  of  his  enemies 
finds  expression  again  in  the  closing 
words  of  his  epistle  to  the  Galatians. 
"From  henceforth  let  no  man  trouble 
me:  for  I  bear  branded  on  my  body 
the  marks  of  Jesus."  That  he  was 
a  Christ's  man,  henceforth  and  for- 
ever, was  past  all  peradventure.  He 
serves  notice  to  that  effect  upon  all 
and  sundry  who  might  think  it  worth 
their  while  to  attempt  a  disturbance 
of  his  relation  to  Christ,  or  to  dispute 
his  privileges  in  grace.  The  attempt 
would  be  absurd.  He  has  gone  too 
far  with  Christ,  grown  too  intimate 
with  Him,  been  too  completely  char- 
actered by  Him,  for  any  separation 
now.  Let  them  face  that  fact.  Here 
is  a  man  tattooed  with  Jesus.  He  is 
96 


Supper  on  the  Darkening  Wold 

Christ's  slave.  Let  the  world  deal 
with  his  Master  who  put  the  marks 
upon  him.  For  himself,  he  will  walk 
in  peace  by  his  Master's  side. 

What  a  glowing  prospect  this  view 
unfolds  before  the  Christian  as  he  ap- 
proaches the  maturity  of  his  experi- 
ence in  the  evening-time  of  life!  It 
may  be  for  him  not  only  the  time  of 
richest  feasting,  but  also  of  sweetest 
serenity.  The  day  comes  to  faithful 
followers  of  the  Lord  when  even  the 
enemy  cannot  look  upon  them  and 
not  behold  the  Christ. 

Yet  one  cannot  but  think  with  sor- 
row of  another  condition  suggested  by 
this  picture;  the  condition  of  those 
who  are  moving  towards  the  evening 
shadows  without  a  sense  of  the  Good 
Shepherd's  care.  For  such  the  late 
afternoon  of  Ufe  is  a  cheerless  time. 
For  them  there  is  no  supper  on  the 
darkening  wold.  The  evening  hills 
are  bare.  They  feed  on  ashes.  They 
themselves  become  food  for  vultures. 
For  there  are  certain  forms  of  evil 
which,  like  coward  beasts  of  prey, 
hide  from  the  tell-tale  blaze  of  day 
7  97 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


and  only  creep  out  in  the  evening 
shadows  for  their  drink  of  blood. 
While  fleshly  passions  burn  themselves 
out  in  the  course  of  years,  the  spiritual 
passions  flare  up  into  hotter  flame. 
Avarice  is  one  of  these.  It  bites  deeper 
and  deeper  into  the  soul  as  the  years 
go  by.  Envy  is  another  foe  that  leaps 
upon  the  field  where  no  shepherd 
guards.  Malice  and  wrath  and  rail- 
ing are  there  to  rend  the  soul.  But 
why  elaborate  the  picture?  A  life 
unshepherded  at  evening-time  is  a 
tragedy  too  dark  for  words. 


98 


"Far,  far  away,  like  bells  at  evening  pealing, 
The  voice  of  Jesus  sounds  o'er  land  and 
sea, 
And  laden  souls,  by  thousands  meekly  steal- 
ing, 
Kind  shepherd,  turn  their  weary  steps  to 
Thee." 

—F.  W.  Fader 


CHAPTER  VIII 

TWILIGHT  AT   THE  SHEEPFOLD 
DOOR 

"Thou  anointest  ray  head  with  oil;  my  cup 
runneth  over." 

The  picture  here  is  rich  in  oriental 
coloring.  It  is  twilight  now,  and  the 
"evening  bcU"  is  tinkling  within  the 
fold,  calling  the  weary  flock  to  rest. 
At  the  sheepfold  door  the  shepherd 
stands  in  the  fading  light  to  inspect  the 
sheep  as  they  pass  in  single  file  to  find 
their  places  for  the  night. 

The  aflfectionate  solicitude  of  the 
shepherd  now  finds  expression  in  a 
singularly  beautiful  and  beneficent 
ministry.  He  remembers  how  long 
the  day  has  been;  how  hot  and  dusty 
the  roads;  how  exhausting  to  the 
sheep  the  excitements  and  struggles 
of  the  way.  Hence  he  prepares  a 
special  benediction  to  be  bestowed 
at  the  moment  of  their  retirement  to 
the  fold. 

Yonder  comes  a  sheep  whose  head 

101 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


is  drooping  low.  Its  slow,  uncertain 
movements  speak  of  utter  weariness. 
Its  strength  is  almost  spent.  With 
languid  wistfulness  the  sheep  lifts  up 
its  tired,  dust-stained  face  in  answer 
to  the  shepherd's  call,  and  lo!  it  re- 
ceives an  anointing,  fragrant  and  re- 
freshing. For  the  shepherd,  quick 
to  note  the  signs  of  exhaustion,  fills 
the  hollow  of  his  hand  with  olive  oil 
from  the  horn  at  his  side,  and  gently 
bathes  the  face  now  gratefully  uplifted 
to  him.  And  when  this  is  done,  he 
extends  the  cup  filled  from  the  well 
by  the  fold,  that  the  thirsty  one  may 
drink. 

It  is  an  exquisite  picture  of  Christ's 
tender  grace  as  He  stands  to  anoint 
and  refresh  the  souls  of  believers  when, 
weary  and  worn,  they  look  up  to  Him 
in  the  gloaming  of  life's  little  day. 
No  office  which  our  Saviour  performs 
is  more  precious  and  beautiful  than 
this  in  which  He  touches  His  weary 
ones  with  balm,  that  they  may  retire 
with  cool,  clean  souls  to  rest. 

There  is  a  pensiveness  about  the 
twilight    hour   which    every   sensitive 

I02 


Twilight  at  the  Sheepfold  Door 

soul  must  keenly  feel.  It  is  an  hour 
for  retrospection  and  reflection.  The 
labor  of  the  day  is  ended,  and  the 
time  for  judgment  upon  its  quality 
has  come.  Has  life  been  worth  the  liv- 
ing ?  Is  there  any  profit  from  its  toil  ? 
Have  we  gathered  diamonds  or  dust  ? 
Happy  is  he  who  can  see  a  straight 
string  of  purpose  running  through 
the  years,  binding  them  all  together 
like  a  rope  of  pearls.  Too  often  the 
years  God  gives  us  are  allowed  to  pass 
unstrung,  slipping  through  our  fingers 
like  loose  beads. 

But  even  those  who  live  the  noblest 
must  suffer  the  distinctive  pain  of  the 
tvvdlight.  It  is  no  light  matter  for  one 
who  has  loved  his  work  to  lay  it  down  or 
relinquish  it  to  other  hands.  If  a  man 
puts  conscience  and  imagination  and 
sympathy  into  his  work  there  must 
come  a  sharp  pang  to  his  heart  in  the 
hour  when  he  definitely  retires  from 
it.  Do  you  wonder  that  a  look  of 
suffering  comes  into  the  dim  eyes  of 
him  who  has  cleared  the  land  and 
drained  the  fields  and  planted  the 
orchard  and  sunk  the  well  and  built 
103 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


the  house,  when  the  day  comes  for 
him  to  give  the  deed  of  it  all  into 
younger  and  stronger  hands?  Do 
you  wonder  that  the  heart  of  the 
prima-donna  bleeds  when  she  faces 
her  last  audience  to  sing  her  swan- 
song?  Do  you  wonder  that  the 
Christian  pastor  who  has  loved  the 
souls  of  men,  and  found  it  ecstasy 
to  preach  the  Gospel,  deems  the  day 
of  his  superannuation  the  saddest 
day  of  all  his  life?  If  the  thought 
of  rest  is  sweet,  'tis  bitter-sweet  when 
we  realize  that  the  outgoings  of  life 
are  ended.  When  the  door  shuts  that 
cuts  us  off  from  our  loved  toil,  it 
shuts  upon  the  heart  and  cuts  it  to  the 
quick.  In  that  hour  there  is  but  one 
who  can  give  the  "oil  of  joy  for  mourn- 
ing and  the  garment  of  praise  for 
the  spirit  of  heaviness" — the  Shepherd 
who  stands  at  the  twilight  door, 
hands  dipped  in  balm,  to  bestow  His 
evening  benediction.  He,  with  His 
hand  upon  our  hearts,  is  the  "Pilot 
of  the  purple  twilight,"  guiding,  and 
soothing  as  He  guides,  to  rest. 

One  cannot  but  think  of  brilliant 
104 


Twilight  at  the  Sheepfold  Door 

lives  that  tragically  missed  the  evening 
blessing.  In  the  great  French  drama 
the  aged  cardinal  is  asked,  "Art  thou 
Richelieu?"  And  he  replies,  "Yes- 
terday I  was  Richelieu,  to-day  I  am 
a  poor,  old  man;  to-morrow  I  know 
not  what."  And  there  was  Cardinal 
Wolsey,  staggering  in  disgrace  and 
disease  to  the  Abbey  of  Leicester, 
and  moaning  on  his  deathbed,  "Had 
I  but  served  God  as  diligently  as  I 
have  served  the  King,  He  would  not 
have  given  me  over  in  my  gray  hairs." 
What  a  contrast  between  the  twilight 
of  their  day  and  that  of  Shaftesbury 
or  Gladstone!  The  former  passed 
from  picturesque  and  impressive  man- 
hood into  wretchedness  and  feeble- 
ness and  gloom.  The  latter  passed, 
through  faith  and  righteousness  and 
unselfish  service,  into  the  dignities 
and  compensating  comforts  of  "a 
good  old  age." 

There  come  to  mind  two  men  of 
my  acquaintance,  men  who  honored 
me  with  their  friendship,  who  were 
notable  exhibitors  of  the  reviving  in- 
fluences of  a  twilight  anointing.  One 
105 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


was  an  educationist.  In  the  realms 
both  of  secondary  and  of  higher  educa- 
tion, he  was  a  master.  He  wrought 
out  for  and  established  in  two  Cana- 
dian provinces  their  splendid  system 
of  free  schools.  In  a  third  province  he 
gave  great  impetus  to  the  thought  that 
resulted  in  the  creation  of  a  vigor- 
ous Christian  university.  For  a  brief 
period  he  stood  at  its  head.  Then, 
realizing  that  his  strength  was  broken, 
he  suddenly  stepped  aside.  With  a 
single  step  he  passed  from  noon  to 
twilight.  Those  of  us  who  knew  him 
intimately  knew  that  the  pain  of  the 
twihght  was  acute  in  his  heart.  But 
the  compensations  were  sweet  and 
satisfying.  The  Master  held  out  to 
him  the  brimming  cup  of  joy. 

"Then  purged  with  euphrasy  and  rue 
The  visual  nerve,  for  he  had  much  to  see." 

And  he  told  us  what  he  saw  in 
kindling  speech.  The  fountain  of 
song  was  unsealed  within  his  heart. 
For  the  few  years  that  were  left  to  him 
he  moved  among  us  like  a  winged 
io6 


Twilight  at  the  Sheepfold  Door 

spirit.  He  was  our  nightingale  sing- 
ing in  the  twilight.  He  was  our  in- 
spirationist,  our  prophet,  our  guide, 
philosopher  and  friend.  The  beauty, 
the  richness,  the  literary  fruitfulness 
of  those  years  were  the  marvel  and 
dehght  of  all  who  saw.  In  the  twi- 
light of  his  day  God  crowned  him 
with  loving-kindness  and  tender  mer- 
cies; he  satisfied  his  mouth  with  good 
things,  so  that  his  youth  was  renewed 
Uke  the  eagle's. 

The  other  man  was  a  merchant. 
Remembering  his  great  humility  I 
must  not  write  his  name.  He  was  a 
kingly  man.  And  he  was  intensely 
in  love  with  life.  He  had  great  capa- 
city for  business,  which  he  pushed 
with  enthusiastic  but  aseptically  clean 
hands.  He  revelled  in  benevolences. 
He  was  fond  of  social  life.  He  loved 
good  books.  He  was  enamored  of  the 
beauties  and  sublimities  of  the  nat- 
ure-world around  him.  On  every 
side  of  him  he  was  tinglingly  alive. 
But  for  him  the  twilight  came,  as  it 
seemed  to  us,  all  too  soon.  For  several 
years  before  his  death  he  was  an 
107 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


invalid.  All  the  interests  that  had 
been  so  dear  to  him,  except  such 
benevolences  as  he  could  direct  from 
his  bedside,  were  shut  out  from  his 
life.  Yet  he  never  lived  so  deeply, 
so  joyously,  so  triumphantly  as  in  those 
years.  His  spirit  was  charged  with  a 
divine  power  that  thrilled  you  the 
moment  you  came  into  his  room.  He 
seemed  more  than  human  in  the  glow- 
ing beauty  and  entrancing  sweetness 
of  his  character.  I  have  waited  at  his 
bedside  to  see  him  wake  from  sleep, 
and  it  seemed  Hke  the  waking  of  an 
angel.  Some  who  will  read  this  book 
will  know  that  there  is  no  extrava- 
gance of  statement  here.  That  name 
is  cherished  in  many  hearts  to-day 
as  their  sweetest  memory.  I  shall 
never  cease  to  thank  God  that  I  was 
permitted  to  be  near  and  witness  the 
anointing  of  that  life  in  the  twilight 
hour. 

The  oil  and  the  cup!  It  seems  to 
me  that  at  this  point  the  psalm  reaches 
a  climax  in  the  celebration  of  the  inti- 
macy between  the  shepherd  and  the 
sheep.  For  now  the  Shepherd's  hand 
108 


Twilight  at  the  Sheepfold  Door 

rests  caressingly  upon  His  follower's 
head  and  they  come  face  to  face  in  a 
fellowship  which  kindles  joy  unspeak- 
able and  full  of  glory.  Indeed,  it 
seems  almost  too  sacred  a  thing  to 
speak  about.  We  can  scarcely  handle 
it  at  all  with  our  clumsy  words  and 
not  bruise  its  exquisite  bloom.  Only 
let  us  pray  that  "Love  Divine"  may 
keep  tryst  with  us  in  the  twilight  hour 
when  we  stagger  in  wounds  and  weari- 
ness to  life's  evening  couch ! 


109 


"Twilight  and  evening  bell 
And  after  that  the  dark." 

— Tennyson. 


CHAPTER   IX 

NIGHT   WITHIN   THE  GATES 

"Surely  goodness  and  mercy  shall  follow 
me  all  the  days  of  my  life." 

Hitherto  the  song  has  been  all 
of  love's  leadings.  The  shepherd  has 
gone  before  the  sheep,  feeding,  lead- 
ing, clearing  the  way.  Now  there 
is  a  change  of  view  and  he  is  seen, 
in  the  guise  of  "goodness  and  mercy," 
following  after  the  flock  and  per- 
forming the  office  of  impregnable  rear- 
guard. 

The  series  of  pictures  would  not 
be  artistically  complete,  nor  adequate 
to  practical  Ufe-needs,  without  this 
added  scene.  For  not  always  can 
the  perils  of  our  lives  be  fronted. 
Frequently  they  camp  upon  our  rear. 
They  rise  up  out  of  the  past  and 
persistently  dog  our  steps.  Apart 
from  a  shepherding  that  renders  the 
soul  inviolable  from  the  rear,  we  should 
speedily  be  hunted  down  to  death. 

There  are  the  bloodhounds  of  he- 
8  113 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


reditary  taint  and  constitutional  de- 
fect and  transmitted  tendency.  They 
are  a  hungry  and  vicious  pack.  And 
they  follow  us  "all  the  days"  of  our 
lives.  We  can  never  shake  them  off. 
Travel  as  fast  and  as  far  as  we  may, 
we  cannot  outfoot  them.  Even  while 
we  congratulate  ourselves  that  we 
have  distanced  them,  and  that  they 
have  lost  the  scent,  we  hear  them 
growling  at  our  heels.  So  powerful 
and  persistent  is  the  force  of  inherited 
tendency  that  many  observant  stu- 
dents of  life  have  declared  it  to  be 
the  determining  factor  in  human 
destiny.  We  are  familiar  with  the 
testimony  of  criminal  statistics  upon 
this  point.  Criminal  instincts  run 
in  the  blood  from  generation  to 
generation.  There  are  multitudes 
of  human  wrecks  grinding  upon  the 
rocks  to-day  because  the  rudder  of 
their  will  was  set  and  lashed  to  lee- 
ward by  a  foolish  or  vicious  ancestry, 
and  the  offspring  lack  the  moral  force 
to  cut  the  cords  and  release  the  wheel. 
We  know,  too,  how  many  sensualists 
excuse  themselves  and  cast  the  blame 
114 


Night  Within  the  Gates 

of  their  unclean  lives  upon  the  forces 
of  heredity  that  pushed  them  into  the 
ditch.  Unquestionably,  it  is  a  dark 
fact  that  the  evil  which  men  do  lives 
after  them  in  the  form  of  a  relent- 
lessly pursuing  force  upon  the  path  of 
their  descendants. 

We  are  foUovi^ed,  too,  "all  the 
days"  of  our  life  by  the  sins  of  our 
youth.  We  remember  them  and  they 
are  remembered  by  others.  Long 
after  we  have  set  our  faces  toward 
the  better  life,  and  after  we  have 
walked  the  clean,  straight  paths  of 
righteousness,  these  old  sins  lift  up 
their  voice  and  warn  us  that  they 
are  follovidng  still.  The  hostile  shapes 
they  take  are  legion.  Gaunt,  gray 
wolves  they  are,  pressing  on  and 
ever  on. 

We  are  pursued  also  by  the  accumu- 
lating sorrows  of  the  years.  There 
are  some  lives  which  seem  to  be 
specially  marked  for  misfortune.  They 
are  hounded  through  their  days 
by  "black  disaster,  following  fast 
and  following  faster."  Bereavement 
bites  early  into  their  hearts,  and  as 
115 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


their  way  advances  "sorrows  still  in- 
crease." On  the  later  stages  of  the 
journey  accumulated  sorrows  some- 
times sweep  down  upon  the  soul  like 
an  avalanche. 

But  over  against  these  dark  facts 
the  bright  fact  rises,  that  between 
our  souls  and  these  hard-following 
foes  Christ  stands,  our  constant  and 
competent  Rear-guard.  He  is  "the 
Alpha  and  the  Omega,  the  beginning 
and  the  end,  the  first  and  the  last" 
of  faith's  pilgrim  journey.  He  comes 
between  us  and  the  foe,  whether  the 
foe  be  at  the  front  or  rear. 

He  comes  between  us  and  the  de- 
structive power  of  a  bad  heredity. 
By  His  enabling  grace  He  "breaks 
our  birth's  invidious  bar,"  and  gives 
us  strength  to  "grapple  with  our  evil 
star,  to  grasp  the  skirts  of  happy 
chance,  and  breast  the  waves  of  cir- 
cumstance." In  His  "goodness  and 
mercy"  He  secures  for  each  human 
soul  that  looks  to  him  the  way  of  re- 
turn to  holiness  and  God.  The  knowl- 
edge of  a  man's  ancestry  is  not  suffi- 
cient data  upon  which  to  base  a  proph- 
ii6 


Night  Within  the  Gates 

ecy  concerning  his  career.  Heredity 
is  not  the  only  fact  to  be  considered. 
It  does  not  hold  the  rear-ground  of  life 
exclusively.  There  is  the  fact  of  a 
divine  intervention.  God  steps  in 
there  to  file  His  claim  upon  the  soul. 
He  fathers  it  in  grace;  not,  in- 
deed, to  the  annihilation  of  inher- 
ited tendency,  but  to  the  deHver- 
ance  of  the  soul  from  its  enslaving 
power. 

This  v^^as  the  distinctive  message 
of  the  prophet  Ezekiel  * : 

"What  mean  ye,  that  ye  use  this 
proverb  concerning  the  land  of  Israel, 
saying,  The  fathers  have  eaten  sour 
grapes,  and  the  children's  teeth  are 
set  on  edge  ?  As  I  live,  saith  the  Lord 
God,  ye  shall  not  have  occasion  any 
more  to  use  this  proverb  in  Israel. 
Behold,  all  souls  are  mine;  as  the  soul 
of  the  father,  so  also  the  soul  of  the 
son  is  mine:  the  soul  that  sinneth,  it 
shall  die."  Thus  goodness  and  mercy 
draw  the  teeth  of  this  grim  law  of 
heredity,  and  make  it  an  incentive 
toward  righteousness.      God  takes  the 

♦Ezek.  i8:  2-4. 

117 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


rudder  in  His  own  hand  and  steers 
each  soul  that  yields  to  Him. 

He  comes  between  us  and  the  sins 
of  our  youth.  In  my  experience  as  a 
pastor  I  have  found  many  men  and 
women  who  were  held  back  from  an 
open  avowal  of  the  Christian  life  by 
memories  of  their  past  transgressions. 
It  was  the  thing  that  had  been  done 
they  feared,  not  what  they  might  do 
in  the  future.  It  was  the  wolf  behind, 
not  the  lion  before,  that  held  the  terror 
over  them.  It  is  easier  for  some  peo- 
ple to  beHeve  in  the  conquering  power 
of  "  the  cross  of  Jesus  going  on  before" 
than  in  a  goodness  and  mercy  that 
can  defend  them  from  a  pursuing  past. 
But  the  scepticism  is  unwarranted 
by  experience.  Old  sins  do  follow, 
but  He  follows  closer.  They  may 
chase  us,  but  they  cannot  capture  us 
while  He  stands  between.  The  foam 
of  their  rage  falls  harmlessly  at  His 
feet.  He  vrill  not  give  us  "as  a  prey 
to  their  teeth."  With  Him  as  rear- 
ward, "Our  soul  is  escaped  as  a  bird 
out  of  the  snare  of  the  fowlers;  the 
snare  is  broken  and  we  are  escaped." 
ii8 


Night  Within  the  Gates 

The  facts  of  David's  own  life  give 
a  special  piquancy  to  the  teaching  here. 
There  was  a  dark  time  in  his  life  when 
the  wolves  of  evil  passion  tore  him. 
But  the  Good  Shepherd  plucked  him 
from  the  pack,  and  set  him  on  a  clean 
straight  path.  Did  the  royal  peni- 
tent sometimes  hear  the  baying  of  the 
pack  upon  his  rear?  Undoubtedly 
he  did.  But  when  he  turned  and 
looked  in  terror,  lo!  between  him 
and  their  gleaming  fangs  the  Shep- 
herd stood.  To  see  Him  there  re- 
stored the  rhythm  to  his  heart. 

There  is  no  more  painful  experi- 
ence in  Ufe  than  to  be  torn  and  stung 
by  excoriating  recollections  of  old 
sins.  To  open  the  book  of  memory 
and  scan  the  black  pages,  to  have  the 
old  scars  wake  and  burn  again,  is  a 
torture.  Many  of  the  noblest  spirits 
have  felt  it:  David  and  Paul,  and 
Peter  and  Augustine.  The  moan  of 
that  anguish  resounds  throughout  our 
greatest  Uterature.  Listen  to  the 
plaint  of  Lancelot : 

"For    what    am     I?     what    profits    me    my 
name 

119 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


Of    greatest    knight?     I    fought    for    it,    and 

have  it; 
Pleasure    to    have    it,     none;      to    lose    it, 

pain; 
Now   grown   a   part   of   me:    but   what   use 

in  it? 
To    make    men    worse    by    making    my    sin 

known  ? 
Or     sin     seem     less,     the     sinner     seeming 

great? 
Alas  for  Arthur's  greatest  knight,  a  man 
Not  after  Arthur's  heart." 

Hear,  also,  the  despairing  cry  of 
Guinevere,  his  partner  in  guilt : 

"Shall   I   kill  myself? 
What  help  in  that?     I  cannot  kill  my  sin, 
If  soul  be  soul;    nor  can  I  kill  my  shame; 
No,  nor  by  living  can  I  live  it  down. 
The  days  will  grow  to  weeks,  the  weeks  to 

months. 
The  months  will  add  themselves  and  make 

the  years, 
The  years  will  roll  into  the  centuries. 
And  mine  shall  ever  be  a  name  of  scorn." 

It  is  all  heart-breaking  in  its  hope- 
less sadness.  But  the  sequel  showed 
that  both  for  Lancelot  and  Guinevere 
there  was  glorious  deliverance.  "So 
groan'd    Sir   Lancelot    in    remorseful 

I20 


Night  Within  the  Gates 

pain,  not  knowing  he  should  die  a  holy 
man.^^  As  for  Guinevere,  to  her  came 
Arthur  in  forgiving  grace  and  assur- 
ance of  undying  love.  Between  her 
and  the  shameful  past  he  planted 
as  rear-guard  his  own  pure  love 
and  quenchless  faith.  Thus  he 
beat  back  from  her  soul  the  tor- 
ments of  despair  and  won  her  to  a 
holy  life. 

The  Good  Shepherd  comes  between 
us  and  the  sorrows  of  the  past.  Christ's 
treatment  of  sorrows  is  unique  and 
wonderful.  He  takes  them  into  His 
own  hands  and  their  power  for  injury 
is  never  the  same  again.  He  wipes 
the  poison  from  every  blade.  Sorrow, 
after  Christ  has  touched  it,  becomes 
a  minister  of  good.  It  is  transmuted 
from  bane  to  blessing.  He  makes  it 
possible  for  us  to  rejoice  not  only  in 
spite  of  tribulations,  but  even  because 
of  them ;  as  he  sang  to  us,  whose  voice 
but  yesterday  was  stilled  * : 

"O  joy  that  seekest  me  through  pain, 
I  cannot  close  my  heart  to  Thee; 
I  trace  the  rainbow  through  the  rain, 

*  Dr.  George  Mathcson. 
121 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


And  feel  the  promise  is  not  vain 
That  morn  shall  tearless  be." 

And  amid  all  the  pain  Christ  gives  us 
the  comfort  of  His  exquisite  sympa- 
thy. We  can  never  forget  that  "  Jesus 
wept." 

"To  forge  a  sun,  to  rivet  myriad  stars, 

Through    serried    veins    to    pour    earth's 
flashing  rills, 
To  kennel  hungry  seas  in  granite  bars, 

To  whet  the  lightnings  on  the  rock-brow'd 
hills, 
Majestic  wonders!     But  sweet  to  be  kept, 
And    crowning    wonder    of    them    all — God 
wept! 

"Lo!     Our     humanity     has     touched     God's 
crown. 
As  some  frail  leaf  might  touch  the  bend- 
ing spheres; 
And  from  the  heights  of  Godship  He  stooped 
down 
To  bathe  His  forehead  in  a  brine  of    tears. 
He    lived    and    talked    with    men,    He    toiled 

and  slept, 
But    struck    our    human    key-note    when — 
He   wept. 

"Weep,  burdened  soul,  let  fall  thy  tears  like 
rain! 
God  counts  the  drops  in  which    thy    slow 
years  steep, 

122 


Night  Within  the  Gates 

He      gathers      them      like      mountain      dew 

again, 
Transformed     to    pearls    which     seraphim 

shall  keep 
For    thy    soul's    crowning    when,    by    cares 

unswept, 
It  leans  upon  the  breast  of  Him  who  wept." 

But  all  this  gospel  of  the  rear-guard 
has  special  signification  for  old  age. 
The  scene  which  the  psalm  presents 
at  this  point  is  the  closing  scene  of  the 
day.  The  journeyings  of  the  flock 
are  ended.  The  door  of  the  fold  is 
shut.  It  is  night  and  the  time  of  stars. 
The  sheep  lie  down  in  their  quiet  rest- 
ing-places. The  chief  need  now  is  for 
a  night  patrol  to  sentinel  the  flock  and 
protect  their  rest.  In  the  thought  of 
the  psalmist  the  sentinel  is  placed. 
The  guard  is  at  the  door.  The  shep- 
herd himself  is  there.  The  flock  may 
rest  in  peace. 

It  will  help  us  to  a  better  apprecia- 
tion of  this  strain  of  the  song  if  we  call 
to  mind  the  characteristic  Jewish  feel- 
ing for  old  age.  Not  only  had  the 
pious  Jew  a  tender  reverence  for  the 
aged,  but  he  hoped  for  himself  that  he 
123 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


might  live  to  be  old.  He  had  an  am- 
bition to  see  his  seed  unto  the  third 
and  fourth  generation.  A  great  age 
was  an  occasion  of  pride  to  him.  The 
feeling  was  inextricably  interwoven 
vdth  his  reHgion.  A  long  life,  with 
a  quiet  resting  time  at  its  close,  when 
he  might  be  surrounded  by  a  circle  of 
devoted  descendants,  was  to  him  an 
unmistakable  mark  of  divine  favor. 
It  was  one  of  the  covenant  blessings. 
Then,  too,  we  must  remember  that  the 
Jew  of  David's  time  had  no  clear  out- 
look into  the  future  beyond  the  grave. 
For  him  death  meant  an  interruption, 
even  an  interception  of  relations  with 
Jehovah.  Whatever  God  would  do 
for  him  so  he  believed,  must  be  done 
in  this  life.  It  was  natural,  therefore, 
that  he  should  fervently  desire  length 
of  days  on  earth. 

All  this,  of  course,  is  vastly  different 
from  the  prevailing  modern  mood. 
We  speak  now  as  though  it  were  a  mis- 
fortune to  live  to  a  great  age.  We 
hope  to  die  in  the  harness.  We  would 
"cease  at  once  to  labor  and  to  live." 
We  dread  to  "lag  superfluous"  on  the 
124 


Night  Within  the  Gates 

stage.     To    outlive    activity   seems    a 
curse. 

The  change  in  view  is  partly  due, 
no  doubt,  to  our  brighter  thought  of 
what  awaits  us  beyond  the  Great 
Divide.  "Jesus  Christ  has  brought 
life  and  immortahty  to  Hght  through 
the  Gospel."  To  the  Christian  "the 
best  is  yet  to  be"  in  the  land  beyond 
the  flood.  That  is  the  Eldorado  of 
his  hopes.  He  knows  that  "to  die  is 
gain." 

Yet  the  modern  recoil  from  the  idea 
of  old  age  is  not  wholly  due  to  this 
brighter  thought  of  the  hereafter.  It 
is  characteristic  even  of  those  whose 
hopes  do  not  turn  to  heaven.  It  is 
partly  to  be  accounted  for  by  a  dimin- 
ished sense  of  the  beauty  of  old  age  and 
partly  by  a  slackening  of  the  family 
bond. 

This  is  the  day  of  the  young  man. 
He  must  make  his  fortune  by  the  time 
he  is  forty,  and  be  ready  for  the  chloro- 
form at  sixty!  The  popular  ideal  of 
life  to-day  is  to  rush  early  into  your 
chosen  career,  climb  swiftly  to  success, 
wave  your  flag  for  a  brief  moment  on 
125 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


the  summit  of  the  hill,  and  then  make 
way  for  the  generation  pushing  up 
breathlessly  behind. 

It  is  all  a  sad  mistake.  We  are 
missing  the  best  this  life  can  give  in 
thus  galloping  pell-mell  through  our 
years  and  dropping  in  sudden  exhaus- 
tion in  the  early  evening-time  of  life. 
For, 

"Age  is  opportunity  no  less 
Than  youth  itself,  tho'  in  another  dress, 
And  as  the  evening  twilight  fades  away 
The  sky  is  filled  with  stars  invisible  by  day." 

It  is  out  of  a  typical  Jewish  reverence 
for  the  dignities  and  amenities  of  old 
age  that  Browning's  Rabbi  Ben  Ezra 
sings : 

"Grow  old  along  with  me! 
The  best  is  yet  to  be. 

The  last  of  life  for  which  the  first  was  made; 
Our  times  are  in  His  hand 
Who  saith,  a  whole  I  planned! 
Youth   shows   but   halfj    trust   God!   see   all 
nor  be  afraid." 

And  it  was  out  of  such  a  fine  and 

tender  feeling  for  old  age  that  David 

uttered  these  glowing  words  of  thank- 

126 


Night  Within  the  Gates 

ful  trust.  "Surely  goodness  and  mer- 
cy shall  follow  me  all  the  days  of 
my  life."  He  hoped  his  days  might 
be  many ;  he  knew  they  would  all  be 
good  if  God  was  in  them. 

Observe  how  the  close  of  the  psalm 
bends  back  and  touches  its  beginning! 
Leadings  and  followings,  these  form 
the  perfect  circle  of  God's  Shepherd- 
hood.  Within  that  circle  the  believer 
may  safely  abide  till  travelling  days, 
yes,  and  till  resting  days  are  done. 


127 


"And  may  there  be  no  sadness  of  farewell 
When  I  embark; 
For  tho'  from  out  our  bourne  of  Time  and 
Place 
The  flood  may  bear  me  far, 
I  hope  to  see  my  Pilot  face  to  face 
When  I  have  crost  the  bar." 

— Tennyson. 


CHAPTER   X 

FO  REG  LEA  MS     OF     THE 
HEAVENLY   DAWN 

"And  I  w-ill  dwell  in  the  house  of  the  Lord 
forever." 

In  this  assurance  the  faith  of  David 
vaults  clear  above  the  common  con- 
ception of  his  time  regarding  the  life 
beyond. 

Though  the  Jew  of  that  time  be- 
lieved in  an  existence  of  the  soul  after 
death,  he  cherished  no  clear  hope  of 
blessedness  beyond  the  grave. 

His  soul,  so  he  beUeved,  would  pass 
into  Sheol,  the  general  receptacle  of 
human  spirits.  Sheol,  to  him,  was  a 
dim,  vague,  unorganized  realm.  It 
was  a  land  of  darkness.  There  the 
soul  retained  but  a  flickering  outline 
of  its  former  personality.  Existence 
there  was  regarded  as  a  nerveless, 
feeble  reflection  of  life  on  earth,  a  state 
of  silence  and  forgetfulness.  In  Sheol 
the  relation  between  the  dead  person 
and  God  was  supposed  to  be  cut  off. 
131 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


Fellowship  with  God  came  to  an  end. 
"In  death  there  is  no  remembrance  of 
thee;  in  Sheol  who  shall  give  thee 
thanks?  For  Sheol  cannot  praise 
thee,  and  they  that  go  down  to  the  pit 
cannot  hope  for  thy  truth."  Thus  the 
forward-looking  Jew  "dreed  his  weird" 
concerning  the  hereafter. 

But  mark  how  David's  faith  by  the 
vitality  and  vigor  of  its  content  rises 
above  all  this!  The  ultimate  disclos- 
ure to  his  heart  of  the  innermost 
meaning  of  Jehovah's  Shepherdhood 
reveals  a  relation  so  intimate,  so  per- 
sonal, so  spiritual,  that — he  is  per- 
suaded— not  even  death  itself  can 
break  it.  He  is  "bound  in  the  bundle 
of  life"  with  God;  it  is  unthinkable 
to  him  that  the  bundle  can  ever  be  un- 
tied. God  cannot  be  in  heaven  and 
leave  him  behind.  Where  the  shep- 
herd is  the  sheep  must  surely  be.  No 
member  of  Jehovah's  flock  can  ever 
be  banished  to  dim  Sheol.  That  dark 
doom  is  reserved  for  the  ungodly. 
"They  are  appointed  as  a  flock  for 
Sheol;  Death  shall  be  their  shepherd 
.  .  .  and  their  beauty  shall  be  for 
132 


Foregleams  of  the  Heavenly  Dawn 

Sheol  to  consume.  But  God  will  re- 
deem my  soul  from  the  power  of  Sheol ; 
for  he  shall  receive  me."*  Thus  he 
presently  unfolds  the  faith  which  his 
experience  of  God's  shepherdhood  has 
nourished  in  his  heart.  In  his  firm 
conviction  concerning  the  vital,  spirit- 
ual union  which  now  exists  between 
his  life  and  God,  he  finds  assurance 
of  uninterrupted  and  everlasting  bless- 
edness. 

This,  surely,  is  a  notable  achieve- 
ment of  faith.  Achievement,  do  I 
say?  Yes,  for  a  confident  and  satis- 
fying hope  of  blessedness  beyond  this 
fife  must  always  be  achieved.  No 
external  word  of  revelation,  however 
authoritative  it  may  be,  can  fling  it 
ready-made  upon  the  soul.  It  must 
be  wrought  within,  through  conscious 
fellowship  with  God.  As  one  has 
said,  "We  must  get  over  upon  the  di- 
vine side  of  life  before  we  can  be  as- 
sured of  eternal  life."  That  is  to  say, 
we  must  feel  about  our  spirits  the  en- 
foldment  of  the  infinite  and  eternal 
personality  before  we  can  be  certain 

♦Psalm  49:  14-15. 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


that  death  shall  not  bring  us  harm. 
It  was  thus  that  the  apostles  came  to 
be  inheritors  of  "the  blessed  hope." 
For  while  they  had  certain  knowledge 
of  Christ's  resurrection  from  the  grave 
and  ascension  to  the  Father  and  ses- 
sion in  glory,  it  was  not  these  facts 
alone  which  gave  them  confidence  con- 
cerning their  own  destiny,  but  the  fact 
of  their  personal  fellowship  with  Him 
in  His  shepherding  of  their  souls. 
Their  hope  for  the  future,  like  that  of 
David,  rose  winged  and  radiant  from 
the  ground  of  their  personal  relations 
to  Him  who  was  "alive  forevermore." 
This  truth  has  a  serious  implication 
for  all  questers  after  light  upon  the 
hereafter.  The  plain  fact  is,  that  no 
clear  Ught  concerning  what  awaits  us 
in  the  great  beyond  can  be  carried 
from  the  intellect  to  the  heart.  The 
light  expires  in  the  passage.  The 
movement  must  be  in  the  opposite  di- 
rection; from  the  heart  to  the  intel- 
lect. Reason  is  a  great  light-carrier, 
but  its  hand  trembles  here  and  its 
candle  is  blown  out  on  the  way. 
It  arrives  with  but  a  smoking  wick, 

134 


Foregleams  of  the  Heavenly  Dawn 

I  know  there  are  many  indications 
of  the  soul's  uninterrupted  progress 
through  the  eternal  years.  I  know 
there  are  strong  presumptions  and 
arguments  in  favor  of  that  belief;  but 
the  heart  wants  certainty.  And  the 
only  certainty  comes  through  the  con- 
sciousness of  personal  union  with  the 
Redeemer.  We  cannot  be  argued 
into  this  hope;  but  we  may  be  "be- 
gotten unto"  it  by  the  regenerating 
grace  of  Christ.  When  Christ  comes 
into  our  hearts  through  faith,  then  to 
those  who  sat  in  the  darkness  a  light 
springs  up,  a  light  that  cannot  be 
blown  out.  Even  on  the  brink  of  the 
grave,  where  the  winds  "from  un- 
sunned spaces"  of  eternity  blow  over 
it,  that  hope  bums  clear  and  steady. 
It  is  worth  repeating,  that  out  of  his 
intimate,  personal  relations  with  the 
Shepherd  David  drew  the  boldness  to 
affirm,  "I  will  dwell  in  the  house  of 
the  Lord  forever." 

The    song    ends    upon    this    grand 

finale.     And  the  end  crowns  all.    Like 

a   diamond    smitten    by    a    shaft    of 

sunlight,  the  whole  psalm  leaps  into 

^35 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


sparkling  splendor  in  the  glory  of  its  last 
triumphant  words.  Strike  out  these 
words  and  the  diamond  immediately 
deteriorates  into  common  carbon,  dull 
and  opaque.  It  is  this  grand  "for- 
ever" of  the  sweet  relationship  be- 
tween God  and  the  soul  that  sets  each 
line  and  word  of  the  psalm  to  music. 
It  is  this  grand  "forever"  that  gives 
meaning  and  magnitude  to  human  life. 
It  is  this  grand  "forever"  that  makes 
it  worth  while  to  live  and  love  and 
labor.  Blot  out  this  last  effulgent 
word  and  you  tear  the  sun  and  moon 
from  the  firmament  of  the  soul.  If 
there  is  nothing  for  us  beyond  the  little 
fragment  of  years  spent  here  in  this 
time-life,  does  it  matter  so  very  much 
how  we  live?  Shall  man,  who  stands 
at  nature's  apex,  find  himself  at  last 
her  prey?     Shall 

"Man,  her  last  work,  who  seemed  so  fair, 
Such  splendid  purpose  in  his  eyes, 
Who  roll'd  the  psalm  to  wintry  skies, 
Who  built  him  fanes  of  fruitless  prayer, 

"Who  loved,  who  suffer'd  countless  ills, 
Who  battled  for  the  True,  the  Just, 
136 


Foregleams  of  the  Heavenly  Dawn 


Be  blown   about   the   desert  dust, 
Or  seal'd  within  the  iron  hills? 


"No   more?     A   monster,   then,   a   dream, 
A   discord.     Dragons  of   the   prime, 
That  tear  each  other  in  their  slime. 
Were  mellow  music  match'd  with  him." 

Why  should  we  love,  if  all  we  love 
and  love  itseh  must  perish?  Why 
should  we  labor,  if  all  the  fruit  of  labor 
must  end  in  dust  and  ashes?  Shall 
we  write  Iliads  on  rose  leaves,  paint 
Sistine  Madonnas  on  tissue  paper,  or 
carve  Apollo  Belvideres  in  wax?  It 
scarcely  would  be  worth  while.  But 
to  live  and  love  and  serve  and  suffer 
and  achieve  in  view  of  that  "forever" 
makes  it  a  glorious  thing  to  have  been 
born  a  human  soul. 

Yes,  it  was  a  notable  achievement 
of  David's  faith  when  he  uttered  these 
last  triumphant  words.  The  utter- 
ance not  only  crowns  the  psalm  with 
splendor,  but  constitutes  the  richest 
fruitage  from  David's  reUgious  expe- 
rience, and  his  chiefest  contribution 
to  the  religious  thinking  of  mankind. 
So  the  psalm  closes  with  the  singer's 
137 


Life  on  the  Uplands 


face  shining  in  the  Foregleams  of  the. 
Heavenly  Dawn,  When  next  the  fold- 
door  opens  he  will  be  in  God's  house, 
there  to  dwell  forever. 

"For  ever  with  the  Lord! 

Amen,  so  let  it  be; 
Life  from  the  dead  is  in  that  word, 

'Tis  immortahty. 
Here  in  the  body  pent, 

Absent  from  Him  I  roam. 
Yet  nightly  pitch  my  moving  tent 

A  day's  march  nearer  home. 

"My  Father's  house  on  high, 

Home  of  my  soul,  how  near 
At  times  to  faith's  foreseeing  eye 

Thy  golden  gates  appear! 
Ah!  then  my  spirit  faints 

To  reach  the  land  I  love. 
The  bright  inheritance  of  saints, 

Jerusalem  above. 

"For  ever  with  the  Lord! 

Father,  if  'tis  Thy  will. 
The  promise  of  that  faithful  word 

E'en  here  to  me  fulfil. 
Be  Thou  at  my  right  hand. 

Then  can  I  never  fail; 
Uphold  Thou  me,  and  I  shall  stand; 

Fight,  and  I  must  prevail. 

"So  when  my  latest  breath 
Shall  rend  the  veil  in  twain, 


Foregleams  of  the  Heavenly  Dawn 


By  death  I  shall  escape  from  death, 

And  Ufe  eternal  gain. 
Knowing  as  I  am  known, 

How  shall  I  love  that  word, 
And  oft  repeat  before  the  throne, 

For  ever  with  the  Lord." 


139 


Date  Due 


BS1450.23.F85 
Life  on  the  uplands; 

Princeton  Theological  Semmary-Speer  Library 


1    1012  00012  3937 


